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WORDSWORTH 



POET OF NATURE AND POET OF MAN 



BY 



E. HERSHEY SNEATH, Ph.D., LL.D. 

PROFESSOR IN YALE UNIVERSITY 



" Poetry is the image of man and nature " 
Preface to ' Lyrical Ballads ' 



N 



BOSTON AND LONDON 
GINN AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 

1912 



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COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY E. HERSHEY SNEATH 

ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 






gfte iatl&ewgnm ^^retfg 

GINN AND COMPANY • PRO- 
PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A. 



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TO 

MY WIFE 



M 



PREFACE 

In this volume the author aims to trace the history of Words- 
worth's mental and spiritual unfolding as a poet of Nature and as 
a poet of Man, under the influence of heredity and of his physical 
and social environment. A careful study of the various external 
sources, and of the Poet's works, has been made. This, of course, 
has shed much light, not only on Wordsworth's personal psychol- 
ogy, but, also, on the content of his thought concerning Nature 
and Man, which has been carefully interpreted and systematized, 
so that it forms a complete statement of his poetic and philosophic 
creed. In treating of Wordsworth as a poet of Nature, the author 
has dealt with him primarily as a poet of insight rather than as a 
descriptive poet, although much is said of him from this point of 
view also. The limits of the essay precluded a study of Words- 
worth's evolution as a literary artist, but this subject, too, could not 
be entirely igftored. 

The author desires gratefully to acknowledge his obligations to 
his colleagues, Henry A. Beers and Albert S. Cook, Professors of 
English Literature in Yale University, and to Lane Cooper, Assist- 
ant Professor of English Literature in Cornell University, for 
valuable criticism and suggestion. Acknowledgments are also due 
to Christopher Wordsworth's '' Memoirs of William Wordsworth," 
edited by Henry Reed, Boston, 185 1 ; to Professor William Knight's 
''The Life of William Wordsworth," Edinburgh, 1899 ; to Professor 
fimile Hyacinthe Legouis's " The Early Life of William Words- 
worth," translated by J. W. Matthews, New York, 1897; to " Jour- 
nals of Dorothy Wordsworth," edited by William Knight, London 
and New York, 1904 ; to the Fenwick notes, published in Professor 



vi WORDSWORTH 

Knight's Eversley edition of '*The Poetical Works of William 
Wordsworth," London, 1896 ; and to '' Letters of the Wordsworth 
Family, from 1787 to 1855," collected and edited by William 
Knight, Boston and London, 1907. Wordsworth's metrical auto- 
biography, '' The Prelude," has been of much service. The text of 
the Oxford edition of ''The Poetical Works of William Words- 
worth," edited by Mr. Thomas Hutchinson, London, 1895, has 
been followed in all quotations. His chronological table has proved 

to be an excellent guide. 

E. HERSHEY SNEATH 
Yale University 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

Birth, Heredity, and Childhood i 

CHAPTER II 
Youth. Development of Poetic Imagination. Nature and Man . 15 

CHAPTER III 

Imagination's Broken Slumber. Nature and Man in the Alps. 
Nature and Man in the City 32 

CHAPTER IV 
The French Revolution. A Mental and Moral Crisis 55 

CHAPTER V 
Dorothy Wordsworth. Spiritual Convalescence 72 

CHAPTER VI 
Coleridge. The " Lyrical Ballads." Poetry relating to Man . . 86 

CHAPTER VII 

The "Lyrical Ballads" (Continued). Nature and her Relation 
to Man 103 

CHAPTER VIII 

The " Lyrical Ballads " (Concluded). " Lines composed a few miles 
above Tintern Abbey " 124 

CHAPTER IX 

Germany and Return. Poetry of Nature 136 

vii 



vill WORDSWORTH 

CHAPTER X 

PAGE 

Grasmere. Poems of Nature 151 

CHAPTER XI 

Grasmere (Continued). "The Brothers." "Michael." "Resolution 
AND Independence." " The Affliction of Margaret ." Politi- 
cal Sonnets 177 

CHAPTER XII 

Grasmere (Continued). "The Prelude." "Ode to Duty." "Char- 
acter OF the Happy Warrior" 194 

CHAPTER XIII 
Grasmere (Concluded). "Ode. Intimations of Immortality" . . 204 

CHAPTER XIV 
CoLEORTON. Stockton-on-Tees. Allan Bank 231 

CHAPTER XV 
The Excursion 249 

CHAPTER XVI 
The Excursion (Continued) 264 

CHAPTER XVII 
The Excursion (Concluded) 279 

CHAPTER XVIII 

The Period of Wordsworth's Best Work. Summary. Wordsworth's 
Contribution to Poetry 295 

INDEX 317 



Of Nature's inner shrine thou art the priest 

Hartley Coleridge 



He sang 
A lofty song of lowly weal and dole 

William Watson 



WORDSWORTH 

CHAPTER I 
BIRTH, HEREDITY, AND CHILDHOOD 

An acquaintance with the mental and spiritual development of 
a poet is necessary for the fullest understanding and appreciation 
of his work. This is doubtless true of all poets, but it is preem- 
inently true of Wordsworth. No one familiar with his poetry will 
deny its peculiarly subjective character. Almost from beginning 
to end the personal note is struck. It is in a large measure the 
record of his own experiences and of the feelings, imaginings, and 
reflections occasioned by them. But Man is no mere microcosm, 
unfolding his mental life by an inner law of necessity altogether 
independent of relations to an outer world. He is part of a larger 
order, — a macrocosm, — in interaction with which he unfolds and 
develops, working out a personal history. Thus understood, a 
poet's art is an expression of himself, and all fundamental rela- 
tions, both outer and inner, must be considered if we are to gain 
a true insight into his mental life and, through it, a true under- 
standing of his poetry. 

One of these fundamental relations is heredity. By virtue of 
his race connection the poet is related to a Past. His mental 
history, Jil^e the history of his bodily organism, does not begin 
with what is generally conceived of as birth. The ultimate origin 
of the mind is, and probably always will be, a debatable question. 
But if it be in some way an inheritance or derivation, then it 
seems probable that we derive our mental being, not only in its 



2 WORDSWORTH 

essentiality but also, to a certain extent, in its particular disposi- 
tions or tendencies. The poet, then, can hardly be regarded as an 
exception to the rule. Although genius may be a perplexing problem 
to the evolutionist, still the man possessed of it, as organically 
connected with the species, is doubtless subject to the same bio- 
logical and psychological laws which govern the derivation and 
development of his fellows. If, then, we are to understand the 
life of Wordsworth as a necessary condition to the fullest com- 
prehension and highest appreciation of his art, we must study it 
in relation to his birth and inheritance. It may be that the knowl- 
edge thus gained will aid us very little in endeavoring to account 
for his poetic powers ; but whether it does or not, it is part of the 
obligation of his mental biographer to take into consideration the 
Poet's ancestry — paternal and maternal, immediate and remote 
— and determine, if possible, in these antecedents, the origin 
of those unique powers, ''the vision and the faculty divine," 
which, in their highest exercise, enabled him to '' see into the 
life of things." 

Unfortunately, we find very little in Wordsworth's ancestry that 
accounts for his peculiar gifts. On his father's side his descent 
can be traced from a line of yeomen — a line of forceful men, 
some of whom seem to have been active in private and public 
affairs. His father was a lawyer of fair abilities. Of his mother's 
antecedents very little is known beyond what is given in Words- 
worth's ''Autobiographical Memoranda." Christopher Wordsworth 
informs us that one of William's maternal ancestors was Richard 
Crackanthorpe, " one of the ablest and most learned divines in the 
most erudite age of English theology, the reign of James I." ^ 
Legouis suggests that " those interested in symbolism will doubt- 
less find an instance of it in these antecedents of a man who 
was destined so to weld together nature and theology as to form 
from them the most complete and most orthodox scheme of 

1 Memoirs of William Wordsworth, edited by Henry Reed, I, 30, Boston, 
1851. 



BIRTH, HEREDITY, AND CHILDHOOD 3 

natural religion." ^ But symbolism is not science and it is value- 
less in helping us to determine origins, so that we have little 
in what is known of Wordsworth's more immediate ancestors, 
paternal or maternal, that throws light on the subject of in- 
herited gifts. 

The problem of hereditary obligation in Wordsworth's case 
becomes still more perplexing when we take into consideration 
the peculiar character of his genius. He was endowed with the 
mystic's consciousness, which was intimately associated with his 
poetic power ; indeed, much of his imaginative life was profoundly 
affected by it. When most truly a poet, he was a mystic poet — 
a seer, with the seer's mystical vision. The tendency toward a 
spiritual conception of the universe, which marks so much of his 
poetry, appears to have its roots in this form of consciousness, in 
which the spirit seems gradually to withdraw from sense and to gaze 
with a penetrating eye on the inner nature of Reality. '' The vision 
and the faculty divine," '' the light that never was, on sea or land," 
— these are the very soul of his poetic genius, when he is at his 
best as a poet. But it is this power of poetic vision, or insight, 
which is inseparably connected with a peculiar mysticism which 
often reaches its most pronounced form in a trance to which the 
Poet was subject not only in his childhood and youth but even in 
mature years. The more specific nature of this trance experience, 
and its relation to his genius, will be manifest as we proceed. So 
far as evidence is concerned, we can trace very little in his ancestry 
that adequately accounts for this peculiar phenomenon. In the 
present state of uncertainty concerning the explanation of normal 
consciousness from the point of view of heredity, it would certainly 
be unsafe to infer anything of a very specific character in regard 
to the explanation, from this standpoint, of that which seems so 
preeminently supernormal, especially in view of the very meager 
data at hand. 

1 Legouis, The Early Life of William Wordsworth, translated by J. W. Matthews, 
21, New York, 1897. All quotations from Legouis are taken from this edition. 



4 WORDSWORTH 

It may be said, however, in a general way, that Wordsworth^s 
poetic genius, in its more spiritual aspects, may be due to an heredi- 
tary obligation which, as a Northman, he owed to a remote past. 
It does not require much straining of belief to accept the statement 
of Professor Veitch, who, in speaking of the Poet's emotional sense 
of the unseen, says it "had its source deep down in a certain 
heredity of feeling, due to the past, and nourished by circumstances 
of scenery and of race. In him it was sublimated. What had been 
but a dim working through the ages on the fears of the older 
Cymric and Scandinavian people became in him, as he lived and 
grew with open and fervid heart, a revelation of moral and spiritual 
truth, and thus an inspiration for mankind. And this was at the 
root of his moral and theistic feeling." ^ 

On the whole, we can recognize only this very general and 
somewhat indefinite obligation to his ancestors on the part of 
Wordsworth as a poet. This seems still more singular when it is 
remembered that nearly all of the Wordsworth children were pos- 
sessed of poetic temperament. Dorothy Wordsworth was in many 
respects as real a poet as her brother William. It will be evident, 
in the course of our study, to what extent he was indebted to her 
keen observation, imagination, and insight, and how truly he 

could say: 

She gave me eyes, she gave me ears ; 
And humble cares, and delicate fears ; 
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ; 
And love, and thought, and joy.^ 

Captain John Wordsworth, the brother whom William and 
Dorothy so dearly loved, was also a man of poetic sympathy and 
appreciation, as well as of poetic judgment. His brother speaks 
of him as ''the silent Poet." He had the love for Nature so 
characteristic of this generation of Wordsworths ; also the " prac- 
tised eye," the ''inevitable ear," and the "watchful heart" of a 

1 Wordsworthiana, edited by William Knight, 298, London, 1889. 

2 The Sparrow's Nest, 17-20. 



BIRTH, HEREDITY, AND CHILDHOOD 5 

poet. Furthermore, he read and understood the merit of his 
brother's poetry, and predicted for it a future, when many of his 
more eminent contemporaries were pointing out its real and sup- 
posed deficiencies, and consigning it to an inglorious oblivion. All 
this reveals the fact that he was, in a measure at least, the '' silent 
Poet " his brother thought him to be. 

There was, then, in this Wordsworth family a decided poetic 
strain, and the common possession of this endowment by the 
brothers and sister makes it still more difficult for the psycholo- 
gist to account for Wordsworth's genius, except in a very general 
way, on the basis of inheritance. 

Wordsworth, however, seems to have recognized a certain 
hereditary obligation to his mother. This recognition consists of 
conjecture only, and it is somewhat ambiguous in character. On 
the surface it seems to be merely an acknowledgment of what 
he considers to be a common indebtedness of infants to maternal 
parents. Indeed, we are left in doubt whether he refers to a 
peculiar maternal inheritance at all or merely to an acquisition, 
due to the intimate relation which the child sustains to his mother 
after birth, or to both. The more obvious interpretation of his 
words would indicate belief in an inherited '' infant sensibility," 
which is " augmented and sustained " as the child drinks in '' the 
feelings from his mother's eye," and " holds mute dialogues with 
his mother's heart." This infant sensibility links him to the ex- 
ternal world, and irradiates, beautifies, and exalts objects of sense. 
It gives him " the first poetic view of our human life." It is thus 
that the otherwise prosaic world is transformed. The mysticism 
so characteristic of Wordsworth is quite manifest in this beautiful 
conception, which he clothes in equally beautiful words : 

Blest the infant Babe, 
(For with my best conjecture I would trace 
Our Being's earthly progress), blest the Babe, 
Nursed in his Mother's arms, who sinks to sleep. 
Rocked on his Mother's breast ; who with his soul 



6 WORDSWORTH 

Drinks in the feelings of his Mother's eye ! 
For him, in one dear Presence, there exists 
A virtue which irradiates and exalts 
Objects through widest intercourse of sense. 
No outcast he, bewildered and depressed : 
Along his infant veins are interfused 
The gravitation and the filial bond 
Of nature that connect him with the world. 
Is there a flower, to which he points with hand 
Too weak to gather it, already love 
Drawn from love's purest earthly fount for him 
Hath beautified that flower ; already shades 
Of pity cast from inward tenderness 
Do fall around him upon aught that bears 
Unsightly marks of violence or harm. 
Emphatically such a Being lives, 
Frail creature as he is, helpless as frail, 
An inmate of this active universe : 
For feeling has to him imparted power 
That through the growing faculties of sense 
Doth like an agent of the one great Mind 
Create, creator and receiver both. 
Working but in alliance with the works 
Which it beholds. — Such, verily, is the first 
Poetic spirit of our human life, 
By uniform control of after years, 
I In most, abated or suppressed ; in some, 

Through every change of growth and of decay. 
Preeminent till death.^ 

But, beautiful as this conception is, it cannot be reckoned with 
seriously as a factor in the explanation of poetic genius. Science 
is too prosaic and matter-of-fact for that. It may do for the poet, 
but not for the inductive philosopher. It may satisfy aesthetic im- 
agination and feeling, but of course it is not logical inference 
from established fact. This conception is inconsistent, also, with 
the conviction entertained by Wordsworth in his famous poem 
entitled '' Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of 
Early Childhood." Here he inclines to belief in the preexistence 

1 The Prelude, II, 233-264. 



BIRTH, HEREDITY, AND CHILDHOOD 7 

of the soul ; its incarnation is a limitation of its power. The radi- 
ant vision of the child is due to its nearness to his former state of 
existence as compared with the remoteness of later years. His 
mental vision is a vision brought with him from another world, 
instead of a maternal inheritance nurtured by close communion with 
the maternal parent in the dawn of his earthly life ; so that, disre- 
garding the symbolism referred to by Legouis, and the mysticism 
of Wordsworth's conception, both of which belong to the sphere of 
imagination rather than to the sphere of science, we conclude that 
all that can be safely said in attempting to explain the poetic powers 
of Wordsworth on the basis of his antecedents is that, so far as 
his immediate ancestors are concerned, very little can be found 
that indicates obligation to them for his unusual gifts. He was, 
however, descended from a line of yeomen who were close to 
Nature, and as a Northman his peculiar feeling for Nature may 
be an inheritance from early ancestors who daily lived in Nature's 
presence, and whose emotional regard for her may have been trans- 
mitted by Nature herself, through a long line of generations, to him 
who was to become one of her most faithful devotees, worship- 
ing humbly at her shrine and acknowledging her sovereignty in 
reverence and love. 

Wordsworth seems to have possessed certain original aptitudes 
or predispositions which, whether received through inheritance or 
by immediate endowment on the part of the Creator, peculiarly 
fitted him for the poet's art. In the first place, he had an un- 
usually keen organic sensibility ; his powers of sense were very 
susceptible to Nature's stimuli. From earliest childhood, so far as 
his mental history can be traced, an exceptional sensitiveness of eye 
and ear are manifest. This keenness of perceptive faculty, added 
to another apparent predisposition, — a unique emotional regard 
for Nature, — preeminently fitted him to be a Nature poet. Their 
union resulted in an intensity and minuteness of observation that 
furnished the imagination with a wealth of images of '* beauteous 
forms " with which to carry on its work of idealization and insight. 



8 WORDSWORTH 

Furthermore, his imaginative life was, as we have seen, closely 
associated with a mystical consciousness which so warmed and 
colored it as greatly to enrich the fruits of its poetic activity. 
This, probably more than anything else, was responsible for " the 
gleam" that is such a distinguishing mark of his genius. It affected 
powerfully his apprehension of Nature and was largely accountable 
for the refined spiritual conception of things which is to be found 
in his poetry. This unique tendency of mind was unquestion- 
ably original; its manifestations are among his earliest recorded 
experiences. 

There was, too, a constitutional moral sensitiveness which char- 
acterized Wordsworth and very early affected his imagination, 
notably in its aesthetic interpretation and insight. This element 
was a pronounced factor in his consciousness as a boy, and became 
more and more so throughout the history of his mental unfolding. 
Early in his career it impelled him to an ethical interpretation of 
nature, not only ascribing to her a moral life, but also investing her 
with a moral office in her relation to Man. How greatly this moral 
sensitiveness enriched his poetry will be manifest in the course 
of our study. Indeed, it was involved in his very birth as a poet. 
He was called and dedicated to be Nature's high priest, and it was 
his to accept the high office, ''else sin greatly." It lies at the 
foundation of his conception of the poet's art, for with him poetry 
must have an ethical aim. The poet must be a teacher, — the 
bearer of a divine message to the race. He deals not with a dream 
but with things oracular, and is morally responsible for the right 
use of his gifts.^ 

Another fundamental relation which must be kept in mind in 
studying the development of the inner life of Wordsworth is his 
relation to the social environment. The poet cannot, any more 
than ordinary men, be regarded as an isolated personal unit. He 
belongs to a race system, and from birth is surrounded by human 
beings with whom he is in interaction, and by whom he is greatly 
influenced. He is born into the family and is brought under its 



BIRTH, HEREDITY, AND CHILDHOOD 9 

personal and organized life. Soon he is initiated into a community 
whose members are bound together by common interests, manners, 
institutions, sentiments, and ideals, and is in a large measure 
molded by its influence. He is bom, also, into the state, the com- 
munity organized under political government, with which he is in 
constant relation and by which his life of intelligence, feeling, and 
will is powerfully affected. The poet, by virtue of his genius, 
may be freer from the law of social environment than his fellows, 
but he cannot escape it. Even genius is subject to law, as the 
whole history of the arts testifies. 

Wordsworth is certainly no exception among the poets in this 
respect. [Throughout the major part of his poetical career he seems 
to have been especially sensitive to his human surroundings. Cer- 
tain individuals proved to be powerful factors in his life and art. 
Then, too, the simplicity and sincerity of the humbler classes 
of society appealed to his heart, and the fundamental in Man, as 
he read it in these simple folk, inspired much of his song. The 
inequalities of society, the t3n'anny of the classes over the masses, 
the evils of the industrial organization, the weakness of the educa- 
tional system, the oppression of the political order, and the tre- 
mendous social and political conflicts of his time affected him 
profoundly, awakening the great deeps of his nature, coloring his 
feeling and imagination, and making him preeminently a poet of 
Man. Remarkable poet of Nature that he was, the human within 
him was so powerfully affected by the human without and around 
him that, almost in the very beginning of his career as a poet, he 
resolved that his theme should be 

No other than the very heart of man, 

As found among the best of those who live.^ 

And although this resolve was by no means literally carried 
out, — Nature, also, occupying a conspicuous place in his affections 
and art, — still he attained the position where, under the influence 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 241-242. 



lO WORDSWORTH 

of his human environment, he learned to look even upon Nature 
as hearing often '' the still, sad music of humanity." 

One of the more formal and direct influences of the social 
environment brought to bear upon the individual mind in its 
unfolding and development is education. This usually plays a 
large and important part, although in the case of Wordsworth it 
belonged to the category of minor influences. His early education 
was in a measure directed by his mother. She was not a woman 
of great attainments, nor possessed of much pedagogical skill, but 
she dealt wisely with her son. In after years, when reflecting on 
her method, or lack of method, he commended her judgment in 
guiding his mental development. An insight into her educational 
creed, which consisted chiefly in faith in Nature's beneficent 
instincts, may be gained from '' The Prelude." He was permitted 
to unfold his physical and mental powers mainly under Nature's 
guidance and under the benign influence that flowed from his 
mother's heart. He grew up almost like the child of Rousseau's 
" Emile," Nature being allowed a comparatively free hand. Such 
liberty proved to be an important influence in molding and 
fashioning both his body and his mind, and was in a measure 
responsible for the development of that love for Nature which was 
so large a part of his life from youth even to manhood's prime. ^ 

Wordsworth, however, received formal instruction also during 
this early period. Sometimes he was taught at Cockermouth by 
the Reverend Mr. Eillbanks ; also at Penrith by Mrs. Anne Bir- 
kett. Writing of the latter to his friend, the Reverend Hugh James 
Rose, he says : '' The old Dame did not aifect to make theologians, 
or logicians^ but she taught to read, and she practised the memory, 
often no doubt by rote ; but still the faculty was improved." ^ His 
father too had a part in his early education. He was a man who 
evidently had some appreciation of poetry, as well as regard for it 
as a mental discipline, and required his boy to commit to memory 
certain selections from Spenser, Shakespeare, and Milton. 

iThe Prelude, V, 256-293. 2 Memoirs, edited by Reed, I, 33. 



BIRTH, HEREDITY, AND CHILDHOOD n 

This constituted the education of Wordsworth in these years of 
childhood. There is httle here that has any special bearing on his 
future life except, as has already been suggested, the influence of 
his mother's method in dealing with him. Wordsworth, in the 
fifth book of '' The Prelude," contrasts it with the artificial peda- 
gogy in vogue in the schools at the time of his writing. His 
sympathies are undoubtedly with the more natural method of his 
mother. This is what might be expected of one born and nurtured 
so close to Nature's heart ; he was too thoroughly a child of 
Nature to fail to appreciate later in life the advantages of such a 
method. He had too keen a regard for Nature's tutorial power to 
overlook the benefits that came to him during those first years of 
life, through the means adopted by maternal wisdom in the train- 
ing of mind and body. And it may be that here, in these early 
experiences, we have the foundations laid for the educational views 
to which he gave expression later in '' The Prelude " and "The 
Excursion." However this may be, it is certain that through 
the liberty granted to Nature by this simple Englishwoman in 
the training of her son, his susceptible soul early received impres- 
sions which gave direction to his future unfolding. 

Again, the poet, like other human beings, is born into a physical 
environment, and this also has much to do with his mental and 
spiritual development. Not only is it a powerful influence in- 
determining the general life of every soul but also in the deter- 
mination of the particular quality and form, of its functioning. It 
has much to do with what and how it perceives, imagines, thinks, 
feels, and wills, coloring its entire mental life and affecting both the 
quantity and quality of its content. Here again the poet is no 
exception to the rule ; rather, because of his sensitiveness and 
susceptibility, does he most conclusively prove it. This was un- 
doubtedly the case with Wordsworth. Bom and brought up in the 
Lake country, far famed for its natural beauty, — of which no one 
has written more knowingly and eloquently than he, — from birth, 
through childhood and youth up to mature manhood, much of his 



12 WORDSWORTH 

life was spent in the presence of Nature — of Nature clothed with 
beauty as with a garment. Hills, mountains, valley, river, lake, and 
sea were his companions. From childhood he was conscious of 
Nature's influence, and owned her fashioning power. Nature is at 
work with his soul at Cockermouth, Penrith, Hawkshead, Race- 
down, Alfoxden, Sockburne, Grasmere, and other places of abode. 
When he is traveling among the Alps, or in the mountains of Scot- 
land and Wales, or wandering over the hills or through the valleys, 
and around the lakes of his own country. Nature's presence is felt 
as the presence of a teacher, friend, and guide. Sometimes, indeed, 
her influence is so overpowering that the bodily sense falls asleep 
and he sees with a spiritual eye. Normal consciousness is lost in 
spiritual vision, and that which he beholds appears to be within 
himself, — ''a dream, a prospect in the mind." 

It is interesting to note Wordsworth's own conception of the 
influence of Nature upon his mental life during the first years 
spent in the place of his birth. Cockermouth is located on the 
western edge of the Lake country, and although not remarkable 
for its beauty, there was something in his natural environment here 
that led the Poet in later years to say : 

Fair seed-time had my soul, and I grew up 
Fostered alike by beauty and by fear : 
Much favoured in my birthplace.^ 

As a man he looks back and reflects upon his relation to his 
physical surroundings and sees in it a molding force. Especially 
does he call attention to the fact in '* The Prelude." Reproaching 
himself, when in London, shortly after his graduation from Cam- 
bridge, for not having written a work really worthy of his powers, 
and feeling that he was a false and unprofitable steward, he turns 
to his infancy and childhood, and beholds what Nature has done 
for him in those early surroundings. There flowed the Derwent, 
'' the fairest of all rivers," which, as the Poet says, loved 

1 The Prelude, I, 301-303. 



BIRTH, HEREDITY, AND CHILDHOOD 13 

To blend his murmurs with my nurse's song, 
And, from his alder shades and rocky falls. 
And from his fords and shallows, sent a voice 
That flowed along my dreams.^ 

Again, noting the ministry of Nature through this river, he con- 
tinues to reproach himself further : 

For this, didst thou, 
O Derwent ! winding among grassy holms 
Where I was looking on, a babe in arms, 
Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts 
To more than infant softness, giving me 
Amid the fretful dwellings of mankind 
A foretaste, a dim earnest, of the calm 
That Nature breathes among the hills and groves.^ 

Later he speaks of the sense of obligation to Nature experienced 

by him when living in London, as he reverted to the home of his 

childhood : 

With deep devotion, Nature, did I feel 
In that enormous City's turbulent world 
Of men and things, what benefit I owed 
To thee, and those domains of rural peace, 
Where to the sense of beauty first my heart 
Was opened.^ 

Exaggerated as may appear the belief of the Poet in regard to the 
extent of her influence thus early exerted, the general truth, at 
least, may be accepted, — that his natural surroundings were a mold- 
ing force in the life of the child ; and it is not improbable that 
here in Cockermouth we have the beginnings of that charm which 
Nature later exercised over him, and that profound regard and 
religious love with which in after years he worshiped her. It was 
a ''seed-time" for his soul, and he grew up ''fostered alike by 
beauty and by fear." 

Studying, then, the mind of Wordsworth, as a poet of Nature 
and as a poet of Man, in the light of his birth and childhood, we 

1 The Prelude, I, 271-274. 2 ibjd., 274-281. 3 ibid., VIII, 70-75. 



14 WORDSWORTH 

find, in the first place, that, so far as his regard for Nature is con- 
cerned, he possessed a native keenness of sense perception which 
was closely associated with an imagination predisposed to spiritual 
interpretation and insight ; also a native moral sensitiveness which 
soon led him to invest Nature with a moral life, and to apprehend 
her as a moral fashioner, teacher, and guide. Furthermore, he was 
possessed of an original mystical tendency of mind that powerfully 
affected his life of imagination. All of this may have been an ob- 
ligation, of a more or less general character, to a remote ancestry. 
At any rate, these seem to have been original mental traits. In 
the second place, in regard to social environment, we recognize 
primarily an indebtedness to his mother's training, in which she 
delegated much of the teacher's task to Nature, — a more skillful 
pedagogue than herself. And finally, much is due to his physical 
environment for fostering his childish spirit by beauty and fear, 
for sowing, in this early springtime of his life, seed which later 
blossomed and bore fruit, yielding a rich harvest of reverence and 
love for a so-called physical world that, for him at least, lived and 
moved and had its being in an all-animating Spirit, and which long 
proved to be the soul of his religion and the inspiration of his art. 



CHAPTER II 

YOUTH. DEVELOPMENT OF POETIC IMAGINATION. 
NATURE AND MAN 

The years spent at school at Hawkshead, in Lancashire, are a 
much more important period in the history of Wordsworth's, 
development as a poet, and especially as a poet of Nature and 
of Man, than the years of his childhood. Wordsworth, with his 
brother Richard, left home to attend this school in 1778, shortly 
after his mother's death. He was then nine years of age. We 
find nothing in the instruction here that seems to have had much 
bearing on Wordsworth's future as a poet. The few poems com- 
posed during this period are not remarkable in any respect, and 
do not point toward '' a career." But in the life that he led, amid 
his natural surroundings, we find the significance of this part of 
his personal history. At this time he came in close touch with 
Nature. His keen sense of sight and sound, and the unusual 
power of imagery associated with it, were called into activity in 
an environment such as the Lake district afforded in the neigh- 
borhood of Hawkshead, and by the freedom of his school life, 
which permitted many excursions into Nature's domains; so 
that contact with Nature became the most significant feature of 
this period. 

The Poet often refers to tBse early years spent in Esthwaite 
Vale as most important in their relation to his mental and spiritual 
unfolding. Here, as at Cockermouth, Nature is at work with him, 
and Wordsworth as poet, and especially as poet of Nature, is really 
born. It is in the midst of these beautiful surroundings that a 
poetic vision dawns and an insight into the life of things is 
gradually gained. 

IS 



1 6 WORDSWORTH 

His experience during these years must be carefully examined, 
for his ultimate conception of Nature had its roots in it. Indeed, 
we can hardly exaggerate the importance of this period in our 
efforts to understand the future poet of Nature. In his autobio- 
graphical poem Wordsworth has recorded the powerful influence 
of his physical surroundings upon his mind at this time. He recites 
a number of experiences which evidence it and furnish interesting 
material for the student of the psychology of the Poet. There is 
an account of how, when snaring woodcock on the mountain slopes, 
he yielded to the temptation to take a bird trapped by another, and 
then, influenced undoubtedly by his boyish conscience, heard, amid 
the solitary hills, '' low breathings *' following him, 

and sounds 
Of undistinguishable motion, steps 
Almost as silent as the turf they trod.^ 

That is, there is a crude recognition of Nature either as haunted 
by or possessed of Spirit. Influenced by his moral sense, as well 
as by his physical environment, he conjures up a retributive spirit 
of Nature which avenges wrongdoing. 

Again, when hunting the raven's eggs on a mountain crag, he 
has another unique experience, which leads him to conceive of 
Nature as invested with a kind of spirit life.^ Conscience seems 
to have been active here also. We have something more than a 
boy's ordinary conception of Nature. There is a vague conscious- 
ness of a spiritual being in things, that sustains a moral relation to 
man. The wind utters a strange speech in his ears ; the sky wears 
an unearthly aspect, and the clouds have a peculiar motion. Nature 
speaks to him through an awakened ethical sense. 

The Poet records still another incident in the life of this period 
which reveals how susceptible his sensibility, imagination, and 
conscience were to Nature's influence, and the tendency on the 
part of his mind to invest things with life. Once, on ja moonlight 

1 The Prelude, I, 323-325. 2 ibid., 329-339. 



NATURE AND MAN 1 7 

night on Esthwaite Lake, while rowing a boat secured by stealth, 
he saw the huge black peak of Wetherham raise its head from 
behind a craggy steep which, till then, had appeared to constitute 
the horizon's bound. This great peak seemed to be '* with volun- 
tary power instinct." The grim form appeared to grow in stature 
as he rowed along, and to stride after him 

with purpose of its own, 
And measured motion like a living thing.^ 

Trembling with fear, he stole back to the place where he had 
secured the boat, and walked homeward in sober mood. This, 
however, was not the end of the matter, for he adds : 

After I had seen 
That spectacle, for many days, my brain 
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense 
Of unknown modes of being ; o'er my thoughts 
There hung a darkness, call it solitude 
Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes 
Remained, no pleasant images of trees, 
Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields ; 
But huge and mighty forms, that do not live 
Like living men, moved slowly tli»otIgh the mind 
By day, and were a trouble to m;^.idreams.^ 

Again we have compunctions of conscience ; again Nature is 
invested with Spirit ; once more there is a retributive Power or 
Powers dealing with the boy and making a profound impression 
on his sensitive soul. 

It is well to note that in all of the experiences mentioned above 
there was a moral offense committed ; an '' act of stealth " was 
involved. In the first case, he had stolen a woodcock trapped by 
another ; in the second, he was endeavoring to rob a raven's nest ; 
and in the third, he was rowing a boat taken without permission 
of the owner. The conscience of the boy was active. Remorse 
and fear of punishment had taken possession of him. The 

1 The Prelude, I, 383-384. 2 jbjd., 390-400. 



1 8 WORDSWORTH 

character of the punishment which he feared, at least vaguely, was 
determined for his consciousness by his peculiar susceptibility to 
the influence of Nature. It is doubtless the conscience of a re- 
mote inheritance working in him, — the conscience of primitive 
ancestors emerging in this late descendant, who, by a native pre- 
disposition, seems in some respects to be almost as closely linked 
to Nature as they were. He approaches close to the conception of 
Nature spirits found among uncivilized peoples. His soul seems 
to hark back to early man.^ The important fact is that Nature, as 
something other than brute matter or lifeless reality, has arrested 
his attention. There are ''low breathings" among the solitary 
hills ; the wind utters a strange speech in his ears ; the clouds 
move with a peculiar motion ; the huge peak appears to him as 
if ''with voluntary power instinct," — it seems to pursue him "like 
a living thing " ; and in the last instance the impression is so 
powerful as to cause, for many days, a vague consciousness of 
" unknown modes of being " that sustain a moral relation to the 
human spirit. There are here, undoubtedly, the crude beginnings 
of that spiritua^flHM||MMi^ of Nature which was Wordsworth's 
rich possessioi^^^^^^^^H^^g^ch lies at the foundations of 
his philosophy Q^j^^^^H^J^^^ 

But Nature doe^^^Bplf^ appear to him as an avenging or 
punishing spirit or sp^PI, inspiring him with fear. Sometimes, 
even in these early years, she brings joy to his heart, — such joy, 
indeed, that in after life he recognizes it to be a salutary influence. 
The Poet records in " The Prelude " still another experience of 
this period which illustrates the point. There appears to be a 
difference, in intensity at least, in the feelings of joy which Nature 
awakens in him as compared with those of his companions. In 
the experience which he recites, — that of a skating party on a 
beautiful starlit night, — we have a time that is a happy time for 
all, but for him " a time of rapture." The freshness and vigor of 
the boy's spirits are noticeable. The alertness of sense and feeling 

1 Cf. Tylor, Anthropology, 356-358, New York, 1896. 



NATURE AND MAN 1 9 

is very marked, and his responsiveness to Nature's influence is 

quite manifest. He wheels about, ''proud and exulting like an 

untired horse " to enter upon the sport. For him the precipices 

ring aloud, and the bare trees and mountain crags '' tinkle like 

iron." He glides with such swiftness over the ice that, when he is 

brought to a sudden halt, the solitary cliffs seem to wheel by him 

"as if the earth had rolled with visible motion her diurnal round." 

But there is also a softer side to the boy's nature. He retires every 

now and then into a silent bay ; he moves away from the noisy 

throng 

To cut across the reflex of a star 

That fled, and, flying still before me [him], gleamed 

Upon the glassy plain.^ 

Not unnoticed amid the din and sounds from precipices and 
crags was ''the alien sound of melancholy" sent into the tumult 
from the distant hills. After his sudden stop he stands and 
watches the solemn train of receding cliffs until all is absolutely 
tranquil. Thus early the contemplative side of his nature begins 
to manifest itself. 

Now what construction do^^h^^KjM||^yipon these unique 
experiences ^ How, in later ye^^^ES^^^pPtl mingled with the 
world, far away from these haunts of his b^rood, and far removed 
from them by the tenor of his life, does he interpret them ? There 
can be no doubt that in his judgment they have more than ordinary 
significance for the evolution of his mental and moral life. In these 
singular states of consciousness he recognizes Nature engaged in 
laying the foundations of his mind. She is ministering to him 
through her visitations, whether they occasion soft alarm, or whether 
she makes use of severer interventions, or, on the other hand, in- 
spires him with joy. Nature and he are not strangers. She is close 
to him, with an important duty to perform. This is manifest in 
the impressive words of the Poet which follow his descriptions of 
snaring woodcock and seeking the raven's nest, referred to above: 

1 The Prelude, I, 450-452. 



20 WORDSWORTH 

Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows 

Like harmony in music ; there is a dark 

Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles 

Discordant elements, makes them cling together 

In one society. How strange that all 

The terrors, pains, and early miseries, 

Regrets, vexations, lassitudes interfused 

Within my mind, should e'er have borne a part, 

And that a needful part, in making up 

The calm existence that is mine when I 

Am worthy of myself ! Praise to the end ! 

Thanks to the means which Nature deigned to employ ; 

Whether her fearless visitings, or those 

That came with soft alarm, like hurtless light 

Opening the peaceful clouds ; or she may use 

Severer interventions, ministry 

More palpable, as best might suit her aim.^ 

The '* low breathings " heard coming after him, the '' sounds of 
undistinguishable motion," ''the strange utterance" of the wind, 
and the sky that seemed not of earth, — these were Nature's visit- 
ations. This heterogeneous complex of painful conscious states 
was gradually, under the '' inscrutable workmanship " of Nature, 
being welded into a harmony which was to play a very important 
part in the building up of his real selfhood. 

Again, immediately following his description of stealing a boat 
on Esthwaite Lake, and the troubled consciousijess which was the 
result, he interprets the mental states then experienced as due to 
the presence of the Spirit of the Universe. This is apparently one 
of the '' severer interventions " of Nature in his own behalf. It was 
a " ministry more palpable," purifying and sanctifying through pain 
and fear. Nature here, as well as in experiences from the dawn of 
childhood, he affirms, was intertwining passions that build up the 
human soul : 

Wisdom and Spirit of the universe ! 
Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought, 
That givest to forms and images a breath 

1 The Prelude, I, 340-356. 



NATURE AND MAN 21 

And everlasting motion, not in vain 

By day or star-light thus from my first dawn 

Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me 

The passions that build up our human soul ; 

Not with the mean and vulgar works of man, 

But with high objects, with enduring things — 

With life and nature — purifying thus 

The elements of feeling and of thought, 

And sanctifying, by such discipline. 

Both pain and fear, until we recognize 

A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.^ 

The Poet here teaches what a true psychology and a true philoso- 
phy of mind always emphasize, — the important part that moral 
experiences play in the development of personality. They, more 
than any other class of conscious states, make Man aware of 
himself. They, more than other experiences, reveal, indeed con- 
stitute, the uniqueness and individuality of personal being. The 
consciousness of selfhood is preeminently associated with that of 
responsibility, — with the feelings of moral obligation, and of ap- 
proval and disapproval. It is in such experiences that Man feels 
his conduct his own, — that he is a j-^^-directing agent. From 
childhood they have, as our Poet affirms, ''borne a part, and that 
a needful part, in making up the calm existence" that is ours when 
we are worthy of ourselves ; and it is through them, often awakened 
by worthy objects, that Nature intertwines '' the passions that build 
up our human soul." ^ 

Again, referring to his feelings when skating one starlit night 
on Esthwaite Lake, he declares the ministry of Nature. For years 
she haunts him in his boyish sports, impressing on all forms ''the 
characters of danger or desire." This is her educational method. 
Is this not the import of the following apostrophe ? 

Ye Presences of Nature in the sky 
And on the earth ! Ye Visions of the hills ! 
And Souls of lonely places ! can I think 
A vulgar hope was yours when ye employed 

1 The Prelude, I, 401-414. 2 Ibid., 407. 



22 WORDSWORTH 

Such ministry, when ye through many a year 
Haunting me thus among my boyish sports 
On caves and trees, upon the woods and hills, 
Impressed upon all forms the characters 
Of danger or desire ; and thus did make 
The surface of the universal earth 
With triumph and delight, with hope and fear. 
Work like a sea ? ^ 

There can be no question, then, as to the interpretation which 
Wordsworth himself puts on these early experiences. They are 
fraught with meaning. The boy is not an alien in the physical 
world. It is his home. Nature and he do not live apart as abso- 
lutely unrelated beings ; rather does she sustain an intimate and 
vital relation to him, as the molder and fashioner of his conscious 
life during these early years. She is a moral teacher, enforcing 
her lessons through pains and fears and by means of inspirations 
in the presence of high and enduring things. This is the plain 
meaning of the Poet, and we shall find it becomes more and more 
an essential article in his poetic and philosophic creed. 

If we pursue the further development of Wordsworth under the 
direction of Nature, we find it exceedingly interesting to follow the 
Poet as he traces her influence upon him through fear, hope, and 
joy, to love. Gradually she appeals to him through the sense of 
pleasure awakened by her beautiful and sublime aspects. Grad- 
ually, too, the pleasures awakened seem to be '* of subtler origin." 
Sensations are experienced that seem to own 

An intellectual charm ; that calm delight 
Which, if I err not, surely must belong 
To those first-born affinities that fit 
Our new existence to existing things.^ 

Occasionally, even thus early in his relation to natural objects, 
amid his joys the mystical poetic vision dimly dawns, and he is 
conscious of '' gleams like the flashing of a shield," and the physical 
universe speaks '' rememberable things." ^ There is, too, a gradual 

1 The Prelude, I, 464-475- ^ Ibid., 553-556. ^ Ibid., 583-588. 



NATURE AND MAN 23 

transition to a more active intercourse with her. The passion, as he 
calls it, sustained by nourishment unsought is by degrees sustained 
by experiences which he himself seeks. As he grows older, more 
and more he consciously pursues the pleasures which Nature affords, 
and plans his sports with reference to them. She soon becomes 
so much of a minister to his desires, that he is 

taught to feel, perhaps too much, 
The self-sufficing power of Solitude.^ 

The psychology of his development during the later years of 
this school period is very interesting indeed. The gradual sover- 
eignty which Nature gains over his affections is apparent. He 
becomes more sensitive to her subtler power. The incidental 
charms which first fastened his heart to her objects grow weaker 
in their influence day by day, until at last Nature is no longer in- 
tervenient and secondary, but is actually sought for her own sake. 
There is a closer communion with the physical world, resulting in 
increase of knowledge and in depth of insight. He walks with 
Nature in a spirit of religious love, and love leads not only to a 
better acquaintance with her but also to a sublimer joy in her 
presence. When night is blackened by an approaching storm, he 

stands and listens 

to notes that are 
The ghostly language of the ancient earth.^ 

Amid fair and tranquil scenes, as well as 'mid gloom and tumult, 

he says, 

that universal power 
And fitness in the latent qualities 
And essences of things, by which the mind 
Is moved with feelings of delight, to me 
Came strengthened with a superadded soul, 
A virtue not its own.^ 

No longer is he a mere passive, receptive soul. His spirit, in its 
interaction with Nature, asserts itself, making its own contribution 

^ The Prelude, II, 76-77. * Ibid., 308-309. ^ Ibid., 324-329. 



24 WORDSWORTH 

to things perceived. The creative faculty has been awakened ; a 
plastic power is with him ; a spiritual hand molds and fashions ; 
an '* auxiliar light " sheds its radiance upon objects ; and the soul 
becomes conscious of a transforming and transfiguring power.^ 

Then, too, so wonderful were his mystical experiences at this 
time that, later in life, when trying to describe them, he doubted 
whether faith in the marvelous things he felt could be found. 
At times there were extreme moments of calm, when normal con- 
sciousness was almost wholly submerged in a trance. The world of 
bodily sense receded from his sight, and another world, apparently 
emerging from his own inmost consciousness, took its place. 
Poetic intuition now manifested itself in a most pronounced and 
mystical form. His view of Nature was gradually transformed ; the 
analytic conception yielded to the synthetic. He observed affinities 
in things which had no reality for duller and more passive minds. 
He recognized a brotherhood among natural objects. Through 
sympathy he transferred his own pleasures to inorganic things. 
Nature was instinct with life and happiness ; truth was revealed 
to his soul, and blessings seemed to abound on every hand, — 
they spread around him like a sea.^ 

In short, the mystical Poet is bom, and to him this new birth is 
as mysterious as the new birth of Holy Writ. All of his thoughts 
are '' steeped in feeling," and a nonspiritual conception of things 
will no longer suffice. A world of isolated individual objects with- 
out intimate, sympathetic relations fails to satisfy him. He grasps 
the essential unity of Nature, and is contented only when, with 
ineffable bliss, he can feel the ''sentiment of Being" spread o'er 
all things, and can recognize, with a rapturous joy, a spirit life as 
the very heart of all Reality, the very Soul of things. The world 
for him is a real cosmos. Such unity and harmony is there among 
things that, as his mystical soul listens, it hears them all singing the 
same song. So ravishing is the melody and so rich the harmony, 
that the fleshly ear is overcome, and the music is audible only to the 
1 The Prelude, II, 362-376. 2 ibid., 382-395. 



NATURE AND MAN 25 

spiritual sense. Sense consciousness is lost in the deeps of a 
mystical trance, in which he hears the soul-ravishing strains of the 
song of a spiritual universe : 

Thus while the days flew by, and years passed on, 

From Nature and her overflowing soul 

I had received so much, that all my thoughts 

Were steeped in feeling ; I was only then 

Contented, when with bliss ineffable 

I felt the sentiment of Being spread 

O'er all that moves and all that seemeth still ; 

O'er all that, lost beyond the reach of thought 

And human knowledge, to the human eye 

Invisible, yet liveth to the heart ; 

O'er all that leaps and runs, and shouts and sings 

Or beats the gladsome air ; o'er all that glides 

Beneath the wave, yea, in the wave itself, 

And mighty depth of waters. Wonder not 

If high the transport, great the joy I felt 

Communing in this sort through earth and heaven 

With every form of creature, as it looked 

Towards the Uncreated with a countenance 

Of adoration, with an eye of love. 

One song they sang, and it was audible, 

Most audible, then, when the fleshly ear, 

O'ercome by humblest prelude of that strain, 

Forgot her fimctions, and slept undisturbed.^ 

What an intuition of Nature ! — a brotherhood in things, unity in 
variety, one in many, harmony in difference, spirit in matter, 
ideality in reality. That which the philosopher gains by the slow 
and toilsome processes of induction, and by inference from so- 
called self-evident principles, the Poet seizes in this spiritual 
intuition. 

A more minute analysis of Wordsworth's account of his mystical 
apprehension of the world at this time reveals the fact that in his 
judgment it was due to Nature. He tells us that he had received 
so much from '' Nature and her overflowing soul " that all his 

1 The Prelude, II, 396-418. 



26 WORDSWORTH 

thoughts were steeped in feeling. As a result he could feel with 
indescribable happiness ''the sentiment of Being" spread o'er all 
things. But not only was this mystical apprehension due to Nature ; 
it also concerned Nature. There was a synthetic functioning of 
consciousness, largely dominated by feeling, that canceled the 
ordinary perception of Nature by the senses as a world of independ- 
ent entities bound together only by space relations, and substituted 
for it a world of objects invested with spirit life and existing in 
spiritual relations, all constituting a harmonious system, and all 
adoring and loving the one Uncreated Source of Reality. Here, 
at least, Wordsworth's mysticism does not abolish the reality of 
things as philosophical mysticism usually does. It does not swamp 
their being in the immeasurable Being of the Infinite. It destroys 
merely the world of uncritical sense perception, which is a mere 
manifold or multiplicity of corporeal objects, and by a spiritual in- 
tuition lays hold of the spiritual reality of things, with their mutual 
spiritual relations and their relations to a spiritual Absolute. 

Furthermore, he too is part of the world and is in communion 
with things, whether earthly or heavenly. And as he listens to 
the song of a spiritual universe, and his own soul is enraptured 
with the music, his mystical communion, though ecstatic, is not 
so profound as to submerge his own self-consciousness, as is 
so often the case with religious mystics. The " mortal limits of 
the self," to use Tennyson's expression, are not unloosed. The 
boundary lines of finite personality are not wiped out. Therefore 
there is no Pantheism here. The distinct reality of "the Un- 
created," the reality of things, and the reality of self are preserved. 
Wordsworth has simply through his mystical mind apprehended 
the spiritual nature of all Reality. 

It must not be forgotten, however, that this new birth, which 
yielded this world vision, was not instantaneous but rather the re- 
sult of a gradual process, a stage in the mental evolution we have 
been tracing. This poetic birth of Wordsworth, with all that it in- 
volved, was the result of a gradual unfolding, under the direction 



NATURE AND MAN 27 

of Nature, of a richly endowed, mystical mind. An insight into 
the life of reality is gained during these years, which constitutes 
the rosy dawn of that larger and saner vision of the Poet, when he 
reaches the very height of his power. And if, later, he gives us in 
verse a poetic and philosophic insight into the heart of things, 
it is largely due to the fact that in this early period, under the 
leadings of Nature, he had gained a vision which, if it grew less 
radiant as he advanced in years, at least grew less ethereal and 
more truly spiritual, unto the perfect day of his genius. 

And now let us turn to another aspect of his mental development 
during this period. Thus far we have been engaged chiefly in 
tracing the influence of heredity, education, and physical environ- 
ment in the genesis and development of Wordsworth as a Poet of 
Nature. There is, however, another subject of importance pertain- 
ing to these years spent at Hawkshead, and to the latter part of 
his early life at Cockermouth. It relates to his views of Man 
formed at this time under the direction of Nature. For it must be 
kept in mind that Wordsworth aimed to be a poet of Man as well 
as a poet of Nature. Indeed, he claimed that Man was the chief 
object of his consideration. Although at this time Nature was, of 
course, preeminent in his mind and heart, nevertheless 

the common haunts of the green earth, 
And ordinary interests of man, 
Which they embosom,^ 

were gradually fastening on his attention. Slowly but surely, under 
the leadings of Nature, he was learning to love Man, and to love 
him for his own sake. He soon learned that kindliness of heart 
abounded most where Nature dictated the tasks of men, — where 
the complexity of social, industrial, and commercial conditions had 
not entered to destroy the simplicity of life. Among such vocations 
was that of the shepherd, and this class of men early appealed to 
his imagination. They were close to Nature, — so close, indeed, as 

1 The Prelude, VIII, 116-118. 



28 WORDSWORTH 

to hear her very heart beat. Their hfe was natural, simple, artless. 
These shepherds, however, were not those of whom we read in 
ancient lore, nor those of whom Shakespeare sang and Spenser 
fabled, nor such, indeed, as Wordsworth himself had seen living 
in a veritable pleasure ground on the vast plains at the foot of the 
Harz mountains. These were neither heroic nor hardy enough. 
Their tasks were too easy — too free from exposure and daring. 
Theirs was not really a contest with the elements nor a struggle 
with ferocious beasts. Fit subjects they were for song, but could 
not serve as an ideal of Man. Wordsworth's shepherd was of 
different mold, — a more hardy and heroic type, the shepherd 
of his native hills and mountains. He followed his vocation under 
far different conditions, enduring the rigors of a hostile climate, 
braving terrifying winds, plodding through deep snows, and ford- 
ing swollen streams. He traversed a rough country, caring for 
his flocks amid rude conditions, and companionless amid ''awful 
solitudes." This man, with his giant frame and simple mien, 
with his consciousness of freedom in his vast domain, appealed 
to Wordsworth. He felt his presence 

As of a lord and master, or a power, 
Or genius, under Nature, under God, 
Presiding.^ 

Nature had given to him a sanctity. He had seen him glorified " by 
the deep radiance of the setting sun." He had descried him, as it 
were, in the distant sky, " a solitary object and sublime, above all 
height ! " Thus outwardly man was ennobled before his sight, and 
thus early he was led ''to an unconscious love and reverence of 
human nature." The human form became to him "an index of 
delight, of grace and honour, power and worthiness." This type 
of man later served as an ideal which accompanied him, and was 
present with him in forming his judgments of Man under far dif- 
ferent conditions, when he came in contact with the coarseness, 

1 The Prelude, VIII, 258-260. 



NATURE AND MAN 29 

vulgarity, and bodily and spiritual degradation of the world. This 
will be manifest as we follow him to London and note the effect 
as he beheld the vast, heterogeneous, and depressing throng, — 
the sick and crippled, the ignorant and vicious, the downtrodden 
and overworked, the idle and beggarly. Nature, through the Poet's 
imagination, saved his judgment then, and over all that throng he 
could discern a presiding Spirit. In it all he recognized the essen- 
tial unity of Man, and perceived a noble destiny for him under 
God. He had learned his lesson concerning Man so well among the 
hills and mountains, through the ministry of Nature, that he was 
able to carry it with him into life, and his spirit did not fail as he 
beheld the sorrowful human spectacle which the great city presents.^ 

Thus early Nature led Wordsworth to contemplate Man. It is 
not meant, of course, that at this time he was supreme in his thought. 
During this period not even Nature was prized for her own sake. 
In what has just been said the Poet undoubtedly refers to an early 
period of his life, — the later years of Cockermouth and Penrith 
and the earlier years spent at Hawkshead. Indeed, in his autobio- 
graphical poem he confesses that at least during his first twenty- 
two years Man was subordinate to Nature in his affections. ^ But 
the point to be emphasized is that, through boyhood and youth 
up to young manhood, Nature was leading him gradually to a love 
of Man for his own sake. Under her guidance he was furnished 
with a type of Man on the basis of which, under her inspiration, 
he was prompted to idealization ; and the ideal thus formed in 
these early years became a saving grace to him later in life, — 
when he met men in all conditions of physical and moral deform- 
ity, — transforming the offensive and depressing picture of sense 
into a glorious vision of the spiritual imagination. 

But a complete story of the Poet's inner life must consider an- 
other influence at work, molding him during childhood and early 
youth, even though it be of minor character. Books were not 
without effect at this time ; they furnished food especially for 

1 The Prelude, VIII, 293-322. 2 ibid., 340-364. 



30 WORDSWORTH 

fancy. Early in life he read a volume of the Arabian Nights. He 
learned from companions that this book contained only a portion 
of these fascinating stories, — that there were four volumes of sim- 
ilar character. This information was to him ''a promise scarcely 
earthly." He arranged with a friend to save enough money to pur- 
chase them. Their purpose, however, was never realized. Words- 
worth's estimate of the value of such literature is interesting. 
Contrasting his education as a child with the more modern methods 
in vogue when he was writing '' The Prelude," he states what he 
regards to be the real merit of books of this character. Indeed, 
there is hardly anything more delightful in his entire autobio- 
graphical poem than the tribute paid to these dreamers and writers 
of tales. What a ministry they perform ! What a benediction to 
childhood ! They minister to the child's self-forgetfulness, trans- 
forming the dull world of actuality into the enchanting world of 
fancy and daydream. But more than this, they prepare the mind 
for the larger and more serious life of imagination, and this espe- 
cially is the obligation which Wordsworth himself felt to these 
" forgers of tales." The words embodying his tribute present a 
splendid description and, to a large extent, an accurate measure of 
the influence of the spirit of romance on the mind of the child. 
That this spirit powerfully affected his own mind when a boy can 
hardly be doubted.^ His early days were made happy largely be- 
cause he was left free to read whatever books he liked. These 
included all of Fielding's works, '' Don Quixote," " Gil Bias," 
portions of Swift's works, — '' Gulliver's Travels " and ''A Tale of 
a Tub," — the last two books being especially to his taste. During 
holidays, on returning to his father's house, it gave him great joy 
to find these books again. He calls attention to the fact that often, 
when fishing, he would abandon his sport, though conditions were 
favorable to its pursuit, to lie down by the side of his favorite river 
to read them, and then awake to a consciousness of idling, and ex- 
perience the '* smart reproach " of conscience for thus '' defrauding 

^ The Prelude, V, 491-533. 



NATURE AND MAN 3 1 

the day's glory." Nevertheless, he feels that these books were 
performing a very gracious and important ministry, inferior, in- 
deed, to that of Nature, but nevertheless sufficiently potent to call 
forth in later years a profoundly grateful acknowledgment on the 
part of the Poet. In his address to Coleridge he asks, ''Where 
had been the Man, the Poet where," had the child not been allowed 
to range at will these blessed pastures ? What would have become 
of both of them, not only as men but as poets ^ if this life of fancy 
had been curbed ? The imagination of the Poet might have died 
with the death of the fancy of the child. The daydream of child- 
hood and early youth was the precursor and, in the Poet's judg- 
ment, the precondition of the poetic vision and insight of maturer 
years which disclosed to him a world alive with spiritual beauty 
and meaning. 

Thu s it is^ seeix.that these years spent at Hawkshead constitute 
an important period in the evolution of Wordsworth as a poet 
of Nature and a poet of Man. They witnessed the birth of his 
poetic imagination, whose idealization, vision, and intuition were 
for many years to be immediately concerned with these two great 
subjects. They show how, very early in life. Nature arrested 
his attention, and how he attributed to her a spiritual life and 
conceived of her in close relations to his soul, ministering to 
him through moral admonition as well as through joy. They 
reveal also how even thus early Man engaged his interest, awaken- 
ing in him an unusual reverence for human nature, and how his 
boyish imagination formed an ideal of his species that proved a 
safeguard to him when later he beheld humanity under most dis- 
couraging and forbidding aspects, so that his regard for human 
nature was increased rather than diminished by virtue of the con- 
trast. Here, in these early years, we see the dawn of a day that 
is destined to grow to a noontide brightness, revealing to us a 
physical world pulsating with conscious life and disclosing the 
native dignity and splendor of Man as well as his glorious destiny 
under God. - 



CHAPTER III 

IMAGINATION'S BROKEN SLUMBER. NATURE AND MAN 
IN THE ALPS. NATURE AND MAN IN THE CITY 

In October, 1787, when seventeen and a half years old, Words- 
worth entered St. John's College, Cambridge, as an undergraduate. 
In *' The Prelude " he does not speak very enthusiastically of the 
benefits derived from his college life. He evidently was not in 
sympathy with much of the formal instruction there, nor did he 
have great reverence for those in authority. The general life of 
the college also failed to appeal to him to any considerable extent. 
He felt that, by temperament and training, he was not fitted for 
such an environment. Still, with all of his misgivings, he had his 
solaces. These came from a consciousness of *' holy powers and 
faculties " with which Nature had endowed him.^ Often he with- 
drew from his comrades and the ordinary scenes and experiences 
of the day, and as he walked alone through the fields his mind 
would return into herself and be refreshed. At times, '*as if 
awakened, summoned, roused, constrained," he says : 

I looked for universal things ; perused 
The common countenance of earth and sky : 



I called on both to teach me what they might ; 

Or turning the mind in upon herself, 

Pored, watched, expected, listened, spread my thoughts 

And spread them with a wider creeping ; felt 

Incumbencies more awful, visitings 

Of the Upholder of the tranquil soul, 

That tolerates the indignities of Time, 

And, from the centre of Eternity 

All finite motions overruling, lives 

In glory immutable.^ 

1 The Prelude, III, 88 f. 2 ibid., 106-121. 

32 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE ALPS 33 

Here, too, as in the Hawkshead days, he invested Nature with spirit, 
attributing to things not only hfe but moral life. His mystical soul 
was functioning. Everything had meaning, even the loose stones 
lying in the road. Exceedingly sensitive and obedient to Nature's 
various aspects, he lived in a world of his own creation and was 
happy in its conscious possession. The description of his riches 
amid the poverty of his other experiences is very interesting, and 
relieves the somewhat melancholy account of his Cambridge life : 

I was mounting now 
To such community with highest truth — 
A track pursuing, not untrod before, 
From strict analogies by thought supplied 
Or consciousnesses not to be subdued. 
To every natural form, rock, fruit, or flower, 
Even the loose stones that cover the highway, 
I gave a moral life : I saw them feel, 
Or linked them to some feeling : the great mass 
Lay bedded in a quickening soul, and all 
That I beheld respired with inward meaning. 
Add that whate'er of Terror or of Love 
Or Beauty, Nature's daily face put on 
From transitory passion, unto this 
I was as sensitive as waters are 
To the sky's influence in a kindred mood 
Of passion ; was obedient as a lute 
That waits upon the touches of the wind. 
Unknown, unthought of, yet I was most rich — 
I had a world about me — 't was my own ; 
I made it, for it only lived to me. 
And to the God who sees into the heart.^ 

Here his mysticism seems even more pronounced than before. 
He attributes not only life but moral life to things — even to 
loose stones covering the highway. For him the whole world of 
so-called corporeal things lies embedded '' in a quickening soul." 
We see at a glance how far removed this is from the ordinary 
view of the material world. An apprehension of corporeal reality 

^ The Prelude, III, 122-143. 



34 WORDSWORTH 

that invests with moral Hfe the stones lying in the road indicates a 
nature endowed with profound mystical insight, and the student of 
Wordsworth's Nature poetry will fail utterly to understand his 
spiritual conception and interpretation of things if he does not 
study them in their relation to his mystical nature. Wherever we 
find the gleam in his Nature poetry, it is the mystical gleam. 
Wherever we find the vision, it is the mystical vision. And the 
meaning that things have is a meaning for Man, and it is an 
ethical and spiritual meaning. They impart lessons to Man's moral 
and spiritual nature. Things themselves are possessed of spirit, 
and live and move and have their being in an omnipresent 
Spirit, and their office is to minister unto spirit. 

Wordsworth manifested his feelings and sympathies, sometimes 
in gestures and looks, in such a manner that those observing 
him thought him afflicted with a kind of madness, but he under- 
stood it and was not disturbed. It was a heavenly endowment that 
acquainted him with the spirit of things and enabled him to com- 
mune with them. If ** steady moods of thoughtfulness matured to 
inspiration," if prophecy, if poetic vision, or the vision of primeval 
man may be called madness, then indeed was Wordsworth mad. 
This was not madness, however, but merely a unique spiritual 
sympathy with, and mystical insight into. Reality. These exalted 
moods, with their illuminating visions, were the '' god-like hours '* 
of his life at Cambridge. 

Still he was not insensible to university life. Often such moods 
gave way to the pastimes incident to such a place. The sight of so 
many young men, gathered from different quarters, at this renowned 
institution, had its influence upon him. It was a scene good to 
behold. There was also a social side to his nature. Often he went 
with the throng, loving the idleness and joy of good fellowship. 
Then, too, Wordsworth was not utterly devoid of sentiment, — 
indifferent to the memories of the place. He could not walk the 
ground trod by generations of illustrious poets and philosophers 
without being stirred in spirit. It was not a matter of indifference 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE ALPS 35 

to him that Newton, Chaucer, Spenser, Milton, and other immortals 
had lived and learned here. Although imagination slept, it did not 
sleep utterly. The subtle influences of his surroundings penetrated 
his soul. He '' laughed with Chaucer in the hawthorn shade, beside 
the pleasant Mill of Trompington," and '' heard him, while birds 
were warbling, tell his tales of amorous passion." He called 

Sweet Spenser, moving through his clouded heaven 
With the moon's beauty and the moon's soft pace,^ 

'' Brother, Englishman, and Friend ! " And he continues: 

Yea, our blind Poet, who, in his later day. 
Stood almost single ; uttering odious truth — 
Darkness before, and danger's voice behind. 
Soul awful — if the earth has ever lodged 
An awful soul — I seemed to see him here 
Familiarly, and in his scholar's dress 
Bounding before me, yet a stripling youth — 
A boy, no better, with his rosy cheeks 
Angelical, keen eye, courageous look. 
And conscious step of purity and pride.^ 

Once, indeed, he drank to Milton's memory 

till pride 
And gratitude grew dizzy in a brain 
Never excited by the fumes of wine 
Before that hour, or since.^ 

On the whole, however, the first months of life at Cambridge 
were disappointing, and imagination was comparatively inactive. 
They were characterized largely by indifference, low aims, and a 
dismissal of duty. His memory was languid, his heart '^ reposed 
in a noontide rest," and '' the inner pulse of contemplation almost 
failed to beat." The exalted emotion which the place excited in 
others was not bred in him, nor were the influences of the place 
sufficiently potent to shame him out of an easy life or to arouse 
him to worthy resolve and earnest endeavor. 

^ The Prelude, III, 280-281. ^ ibid., 283-292. ^ Ibid., 299-302. 



36 WORDSWORTH 

Wordsworth left Cambridge to enjoy his summer vacation at 
Hawkshead. On his return he began at once to renew his ac- 
quaintance with things, places, and persons, and his spirit was 
refreshed. And now his peculiar mystical consciousness asserts 
itself again. He makes the circuit of the little lake, and a quiet 
thoughtfulness reigns within him. An exalted mood is his, in 
which his soul unveils herself and stands as in the presence of God. 
He has an intuition, or at least '' glimmering views," of the im- 
mortal life, and of the dignity and strength of high endeavor. 

It is interesting to note that here his mysticism, as compared 
with its description in the previous chapter, takes on the nature of 
vision. There it was predominantly emotional and in its most pro- 
nounced form is described in terms of spiritual hearing rather than 
of spiritual seeing. But during the Cambridge period it is pre- 
eminently a consciousness that assumes the form of vision. This 
is evident in the account of the trance already given, where he 
attributed a moral life to all things and saw all things embedded 
'' in a quickening soul." Indeed, he says, '* I saw them feel." The 
noetic element is more conspicuous too. The mystical conscious- 
ness becomes more articulate in its functioning, and the eternal 
verities of God, Immortality, and Duty are disclosed to his 
spiritual eye. 

There is, too, a change in his mental attitude toward his sur- 
roundings. There is a freshness in the daily life of those whose 
occupations he loved. The peace and simplicity of these rural 
folk greatly charm him. Furthermore, he notes a human-hearted- 
ness in his love for things. A "pensive feeling" reigns within 
him. The emotional reactions to the great objects of Nature, and 
their suggestions of import, are now more subdued, and a calm 
and semimelancholy thoughtfulness, with its corresponding Hfe of 
feeling, is his as he contemplates them.^ 

Despite these visions and pensive moods, however, when later 
he reviewed this period of his history, Wordsworth felt that he had 

1 The Prelude, IV, 160-255. 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE ALPS 37 

lost ground spiritually, as he compared it with the life of his school 
days. There was an '' inner falling off." He was not as close to 
Nature now as then. Although conscious that he loved deeply all 
he had loved before, still there was not that devotion to Nature 
which characterized the earlier times. A multitude of trivial schemes, 
of social gayeties and pleasures, seemed to lure him away from a life 
of solitary and happy communion with her, which meant so much 
to him in the former days. Yet, in the midst of these social 
pleasures and pastimes, we are brought to an exceedingly im- 
portant event in the history of the inner life of the youth, — an 
event which marks his dedication to the poet's art. He awakes to 
a sublime consciousness of his poetic endowment. He makes no 
vows, but vows are made for him, that henceforth, unless sinning 
greatly, he is to be ''a dedicated Spirit." The young man receives 
a '' call " to a high vocation. He will sin grievously if he fails to 
respond. This call is a profoundly interesting fact in the psychol- 
ogy of the poet. The account of it given to his friend Coleridge 
must be reproduced here to fully appreciate it : 

'Mid a throng 
Of maids and youths, old men, and matrons staid, 
A medley of all tempers, I had passed 
The night in dancing, gaiety, and mirth, 
With din of instruments and shuffling feet, 
And glancing forms, and tapers glittering, 
And unaimed prattle flying up and down ; 
Spirits upon the stretch, and here and there 
Slight shocks of young love-liking interspersed, 
Whose transient pleasure mounted to the head. 
And tingled through the veins. Ere we retired. 
The cock had crowed, and now the eastern sky 
Was kindling, not unseen, from humble copse 
And open field, through which the pathway wound, 
And homeward led my steps. Magnificent 
The morning rose, in memorable pomp, 
Glorious as e'er I had beheld — in front, 
The sea lay laughing at a distance ; near, 
The solid mountains shone, bright as the clouds, 



38 WORDSWORTH 

Grain-tinctured, drenched in empyrean light ; 
And in the meadows and the lower grounds 
Was all the sweetness of a common dawn — 
Dews, vapours, and the melody of birds. 
And labourers going forth to till the fields. 
Ah ! need I say, dear Friend ! that to the brim 
My heart was full ; I made no vows, but vows 
Were then made for me ; bond unknown to me 
Was given, that I should be, else sinning greatly, 
A dedicated Spirit. On I walked 
In thankful blessedness, which yet survives.^ 

Here we see Nature speaking to him again, making an appeal 
to his conscience. The beauty and sublimity of the morning scene 
awaken in him a consciousness of rare powers, and a moral obliga- 
tion to make a noble use of them. He seems to be in the control 
of a higher Spirit, — the Spirit already recognized by him in Nature, 
— which so lays hold upon him as to dedicate him to her service. 
He is to be her high priest. It is imposed upon his conscience, 
and he cannot without grievous sin refuse to accept the call. There 
is here another instance, more pronounced than any previously 
referred to, of a sublime consciousness of a moral relationship ex- 
isting between him and Nature, — that she morally influences and 
leads him. Later this becomes a fundamental position in his creed. 

Furthermore, this consciousness of a '' call " sustains some re- 
lation to the conception which Wordsworth afterwards held con- 
cerning the nature of his art. He never viewed poetry from the 
standpoint of art for art's sake. Poetry for him is a means for the 
realization of an ethical end. As a poet he is not merely a painter, 
nor an artist merely dealing with metrical language and form, but a 
seer, possessed of intuitive powers and vision, beholding the heart 
of Reality. Hence, like the prophet, he has a message for men. 
He is responsible for the proper use of the gift of insight. Verse 
is primarily a medium through which to convey the message. It 
embodies the vision, which is the reality, the inspired truth. In 

1 The Prelude, IV, 309-338. 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE ALPS 39 

this morning hour Nature brought home to him the sacred obli- 
gations of his gifts, — of his power of more than ordinary spiritual 
insight. His was *' the vision and the faculty divine," the power 
"to see into the life of things." He was called to be Nature's 
oracle, to speak in song the vision she vouchsafes. Thus far 
he was merely trifling with rare possessions, an ingrate, ignoring 
Nature's beneficence. He must awake and go forth in the strength 
and plenitude of his powers, and proclaim what he had seen and 
heard, and what he might still see and hear. 

This unique experience is for him not merely a subjective one. 
It is not simply the realization of compunctions of conscience for 
trifling with exceptional endowments. The call does not seem to 
him to come from within, in the form of the moral self rebuking 
or giving command to itself. It is more objective than that, for it 
appears to him to come from without. Another Spirit seems to 
talk with him, to rebuke and to command. It is the Spirit of 
Nature speaking to his soul through the beauty of the dawn. He 
does not make vows, but vows are made for him. A bond un- 
known to him is given, that he should be '' a dedicated Spirit," else 
be morally recreant to his trust. To his own consciousness he 
undoubtedly seemed to be in the mighty grip of a moral Spirit, 
seeking to snatch him away from a life of triviality and indifference 
to higher things, and to dedicate him to her lofty service. In this 
unique experience we have another manifestation of Wordsworth's 
mystical nature. 

Wordsworth returned to Cambridge in October, 1788, to enjoy 
a life of comparative freedom. It seems, however, to have been a 
life of progress. Though free from much of the formal routine, 
his time was spent in acquainting himself with literature, and in 
quiet meditation. '' The Poet's soul," he tells us, was with him, and 
ambitions began to stir. He had sufficient confidence in his own 
powers to trust that he might produce a work which would endure, 
— a work worthy of the reverence of pure hearts. The instinctive 
humility which he felt in regard to books and authorship seemed 



40 WORDSWORTH 

to pass away, and he no longer stood in awe of mighty names. In 
other words, he was becoming more and more conscious of his own 
poetic power, and worthy, and even immortal, achievement did not 
seem a thing impossible to him. The immortals were men and did 
not appear so far removed. 

One cannot study carefully the history of Wordsworth at this 
time without being impressed by the fact that even here his regard 
for Nature seems ever present. Throughout the winter, whenever 
he could, he was accustomed to visit the college groves and walks, 
" lingering there through hours of silence " until summoned to his 
room by the porter's bell. The spell of the place was on him, and 
the poetic imagination, with its visions, was his. He was accustomed 
at this time to measure the truth of what he read by the standard 
established by him through his own previous careful observation 
of Nature, her forms and laws. He did not value highly the study 
of the classics. Geometric science, however, yielded him both 
elevation and delight, and it is interesting to note that the relation 
of these mathematical abstractions to the laws of Nature — their 
application to the study of star, sphere, and system — had a great 
fascination for him. They are the mind's own creation, — created 
by and out of herself, — and therein, doubtless, in a large measure, 
lay the ground of the poetic mind's affinity for them. He also de- 
rived quiet and profound pleasure, and a sense of permanence and 
immortality, as well as of certainty, from the study of this science. 

During this period Wordsworth had also his moods of mild 
melancholy *'that loved a pensive sky, sad days, and piping 
winds," " the twilight more than dawn, " and autumn more than 
spring. Many hours, too, were spent in indolence. On the whole, 
these two winters at Cambridge record comparatively little develop- 
ment, and show merely ambitions and hopes of doing something 
worthy of his poetic gifts, but with no definite, earnest resolve. 

We come now to the second summer after he had begun his life 
at Cambridge. Evidently Nature is still uppermost in his mind. 
This vacation was spent chiefly in visiting scenes noted for their 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE ALPS 4 1 

beauty. He explored a stream that flowed through Dovedale, and 
pried into the dales of Yorkshire, and also into less exposed 
tracts of his native place. He was joined by his sister Dorothy and 
Mary Hutchinson, later Mrs. Wordsworth. Together they wan- 
dered through the Penrith district, visiting the banks of the Emont 
and exploring Brougham castle. There is little more to note con- 
cerning this holiday season except the completion of a poem, be- 
gun the previous autumn vacation, entitled ''An Evening Walk." 

It is apparent from a perusal of the poem that Wordsworth was 
a careful observer of Nature. One can easily believe his statement, 
*' There is not an image in it which I have not observed." Still he 
did not deal with Nature literally. His poem, although descriptive, 
is idealized description. Imagination improvised on Nature. In- 
deed, he himself bears testimony to this fact. In a prefatory note 
he says : " I will conclude my notice of this poem by observing that 
the plan of it has not been confined to a particular walk, or an 
individual place ; a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) 
of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the chains of 
fact and real circumstance. The country is idealized rather than 
described in any one of its local aspects." ^ Intense and accurate 
observer of Nature that he was, even thus early in his poetic 
career we notice, what will be more and more evident as we pro- 
ceed, how far removed Wordsworth as a poet of Nature is from 
the mere landscape artist in verse. He is something more than 
a realist in his art. He impresses his ideals upon reality as it is 
presented to the senses. He himself contributes something to the 
formation of the poetic product. Later this personal contribution 
becomes very pronounced and results in an idealization which 
practically transforms the materials of sense. Then vision and in- 
sight become the dominant factors in his apprehension of Nature. 

A note of melancholy is struck in this work of his early years, 
especially in the first two verses. It seems almost feigned when 
we compare it with the joyous note struck in his later works. 
1 Poetical Works, I, edited by Knight, 5 n. 



42 WORDSWORTH 

Nevertheless the melancholy is in a certain sense real. It is 
characteristic of his early poetry. Legouis says : '* Wordsworth, 
who, at a later time asserted, in opposition to Beattie, that poetry 
is identical with joy, bore much resemblance, as a lad, to Edwin in 
' The Minstrel.' In this light he appeared to his sister, and thus, 
no doubt, he loved to regard himself. Melancholy casts its shadow 
over his early compositions ; it emanates from him and diffuses 
itself over Nature, in which he delights to find its chastened re- 
flection. Profoundly happy as he was in youth, so that in manhood 
the mere recollection of those blissful years would raise a blush for 
his momentary bondage to dejection, he nevertheless expresses, in 
the midst of his delight, no sentiments but those of grief or pain." ^ 
It is evident from a careful reading of the poem '*An Evening 
Walk " that he was influenced by Collins, Gray, and Beattie, and 
Legouis is doubtless right in affirming that *' Wordsworth con- 
tracted the cherished complaint chiefly from others ; from Collins 
and Gray, but most of all from Beattie's ' Minstrel.' "^ Melancholy 
seems to have pervaded the verse of these poets. In the case of 
Wordsworth it was, at this time of life, his own contribution to 
Nature rather than Nature's contribution to him. 

Wordsworth returned to college in October, to spend an unevent- 
ful year. He decided to spend his third summer vacation in a visit 
to the Alps, accompanied by a young friend, Robert Jones, a fellow 
student at St. John's. This project was entered upon with mis- 
givings. It was the custom of students at St. John's to devote the 
third summer vacation to preparation for the competitive examina- 
tion of the senior year. But Nature had more of charm for Words- 
worth than books, and he resolved to slight tradition, and face the 
disapproval of friends, that he might take this pedestrian tour. 

Of course, a tour to the very heart of Nature's beauty and sub- 
limity could not fail to make a deep impression on such a soul as 
Wordsworth's. Confessedly it was undertaken because at this time 
Nature was supreme in his mind. He was on the alert, with an 
1 Legouis, The Early Life of William Wordsworth, 155-156. 2 i^id., 155. 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE ALPS 43 

eye natively keen, and carefully trained for observation, and a soul 
peculiarly sensitive to all that Nature afforded in the way of beauty 
and grandeur. Not only the account given in '' The Prelude," but 
a long letter to his sister Dorothy,^ expressive of his great appreci- 
ation of the glorious beauty of the Alps, as well as his poem entitled 
*' Descriptive Sketches," published in 1793, reveal a spirit close to 
Nature, intoxicated by her loveliness and charm, and in prepara- 
tion to be her high priest and oracle. It is doubtless true that in 
*' Descriptive Sketches " he is influenced by Raymond, with whose 
account of the Alps he was acquainted, and also by Rousseau, so 
that there is a lack of spontaneous and original feeling aroused 
by the memory of his visit. But if the poem is wanting in these 
respects, in the long letter to his sister there is enough of spon- 
taneity and originality in the enthusiastic account of his visit to 
convince the reader that Nature, as seen in the Alps, made a deep 
and lasting impression upon him. 

This summer tour had interest for him not only from the stand- 
point of Nature but also from the point of view of Man. As he 
journeyed from France to Switzerland he was greatly impressed by 
the peaceful homes of the peasants. To what extent the simplicity 
and contentment of their lives appealed to him is made known to 
us in his own words : 

Oh ! sorrow for the youth who could have seen 

Unchastened, unsubdued, unawed, unraised 

To patriarchal dignity of mind, 

And pure simplicity of wish and will, 

Those sanctified abodes of peaceful man, 

Pleased (though to hardship born, and compassed round 

With danger, varying as the seasons change), 

Pleased with his daily task, or, if not pleased. 

Contented, from the moment that the dawn 

(Ah ! surely not without attendant gleams 

Of soul-illumination) calls him forth 

To industry, by glistenings flung on rocks, 

Whose evening shadows lead him to repose.^ 

1 Memoirs, I, 57-65. 2 xhe Prelude, VI, 504-516. 



44 WORDSWORTH 

In '' Descriptive Sketches," also, he speaks of these peaceful 
abodes. These accounts are all in harmony with what seems to be 
fundamental in Wordsworth's thinking — that Man and Nature 
are not far apart. The nearer that social conditions approach those 
of primitive or patriarchal man, the more accurately does Man 
hear Nature's voice, and the more fully does she reveal her- 
self to him. This simple life is not '' without attendant gleams of 
soul-illumination." After Wordsworth reaches the Alps, the same 
peacefulness and simplicity of domestic scene arrest his attention. 
The pastoral life everywhere has a fascination for him. He is 
impressed by the simplicity and strength of the natives. He reads 

Lessons of genuine brotherhood, the plain 
And universal reason of mankind, 
The truths of young and old.^ 

In *' Descriptive Sketches " he speaks of him who was born and 
dwelt among the Alps as one who 

all superior but his God disdained, 
Walked none restraining, and by none restrained : 
Confessed no law but what his reason taught, 
Did all he wished, and wished but what he ought.^ 

From a psychological point of view it is well to note Words- 
worth's account of the relation between the world without, which 
he beheld as he journeyed throughout this summer vacation, and 
the world within himself. There was an inner life that responded 
to the outer, especially to the life of Nature as he beheld it 
clothed in beauty and majesty. As of old, she ministered to him, 
and his soul profited by her service. All that he saw, heard, or 

felt, he declares, 

was but a stream 
That flowed into a kindred stream ; a gale, 
Confederate with the current of the soul. 
To speed my voyage ; every sound or sight, 
In its degree of power, administered 
To grandeur or to tenderness, — to the one 

1 The Prelude, VI, 545-547. ^ Descriptive Sketches, 434-438. 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE ALPS 45 

Directly, but to tender thoughts by means 

Less often instantaneous in effect ; 

Led me to these by paths that, in the main, 

Were more circuitous, but not less sure 

Duly to reach the point marked out by Heaven.'^ 

And, notwithstanding it was a time when great social and polit- 
ical changes were expected, when triumphant looks were **the 
language of all eyes," and ''the Nations hailed their great expect- 
ancy," and although on their way home they crossed the Brabant 
armies on the fret for battle in the cause of liberty, still all of this 
had merely a superficial and passing interest for him. This was 
not the joy he wanted. He needed no such help, for his soul had 
other interests. Nature was his joy and support. The ever-living 
universe, he says. 

Turn where I might, was opening out its glories, 

And the independent spirit of pure youth 

Called forth, at every season, new delights 

Spread round my steps like sunshine o'er green fields.^ 

His heart was with Nature, and his mind, conscious of her happy 
and helpful ministry, was open to her instruction, inspiration, and 
delight. 

It was natural, of course, that such a journey should increase his 
awe of, and strengthen his love for. Nature. He wrote to his sister : 
''Among the more awful scenes of the Alps, I had not a thought 
of man, or a single created being ; my whole soul was turned to 
Him who produced the terrible majesty before me." ^ 

Many places, for example Lake Lugano and Lake Como, im- 
pressed him by their beauty and loveliness, and afforded him much 
delight. In the letter just referred to he says : " Ten thousand 
times in the course of this tour have I regretted the inability of 
my memory to retain a more strong impression of the beautiful 
forms before me ; and again and again, in quitting a fortunate 
station, have I returned to it with the most eager avidity, in the 

1 The Prelude, VI, 743-753. ^ Ibid., 774-778. ^ Memoirs, I, 60. 



46 WORDSWORTH 

hope of bearing away a more lively picture. At this moment, 
when many of these landscapes are floating before my mind, 
I feel a high enjoyment in reflecting that perhaps scarcely a day 
of my life will pass in which I shall not derive some happiness 
from these images." ^ 

A mind so closely observant, so sensitive to beauty, so eager to 
drink in the full measure of loveliness afforded by Nature in the 
Alps, could not fail to undergo a development. A lively and sus- 
ceptible imagination must have been molded by such an environ- 
ment. The mind feasted daily on scenes of beauty, which were 
probably as rich in suggestion as in actual content. It is doubtless 
true, as Legouis says, that '' except when he wrote the Sketches, 
he was not, and had no ambition to be, the poet of the Alps. But 
when once he had seen them, however hastily, there remained 
ever after in his mind a lofty exaltation with which the lakes and 
mountains of his own country alone could never have inspired him. 
From this time forward there arose, in the background, as it were, 
of his thought, forms of more majestic grandeur than those of 
Helvellyn. His imagination dilated that it might embrace a horizon 
wider and more fascinating than those of Hawkshead and of Gras- 
mere. And lastly, although he afterwards protested unceasingly 
against the practice of comparing the scenery of one country with 
that of another, his travels in Switzerland enabled him to under- 
stand better the peculiar charm of Cumberland."^ The sixth book 
of ''The Prelude," composed in the spring of 1804, and ''De- 
scriptive Sketches," written 1791 and 1792, and published 1793, 
are largely fruits of this journey to the Alps. Wordsworth returned 
to St. John's College in October, 1790, to complete his course. 
In January, 1791, he received the degree of Bachelor of Arts, 
and left Cambridge. 

At the time of graduation Wordsworth had not come to a 
decision concerning his life work. Neither the ministry nor the 
law seems to have had attractions for him. Thus far the poet's 

1 Memoirs, I, 62. 2 Legouis, The Early Life of William Wordsworth, 118. 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE CITY 47 

vocation was really the only one that appealed to him. Possibly 
for pecuniary reasons, the vows that were made for him during 
the first college vacation did not seem to bind him to the poet's 
calling. So, possessed of a little money, he decided to spend 
several months in London, and went up to the great metropolis in 
February, 1791. Here the social environment becomes more and 
more a factor in his development, although Nature continues a 
powerful influence. 

The impressions and observations of his visit, recorded in *' The 
Prelude," disclose his mental life during a three months' stay in 
an environment entirely different from that to which he had been 
accustomed at Hawkshead and Cambridge. This new world was 
almost unconsciously viewed with a poet's eye. True, we are told 
the imaginative power slept at this time, when '' pressed by tragic 
suffering," but it was not an unbroken slumber; at intervals it 
was wide awake. Here, too, the Spirit of Nature was upon him, 
and the city became a source of poetic inspiration and vision. '' The 
place was thronged with impregnations like the Wilds " in which 
his " early feelings had been nursed." His imagination transfigured 
what the eye of flesh saw ; his feeling dignified and ennobled it ; 
his intuition grasped the unity and meaning of it all. Indeed, no 
previous English poet has given us such a unique description and, 
at the same time, such a profound interpretation of the life of the 
great city as Wordsworth. It bears the stamp of a mind of singular 
and intense individuality. 

This individuality is manifest especially in Wordsworth's inter- 
pretation of the variety of scene and life that greets his eyes in the 
mighty city. Different things and events are not regarded merely 
in their isolation and particularity, but as parts of a whole. All 
objects are reduced by his poetic intuition into an identity under 
law, and the vast multiplicity which a great city presents is appre- 
hended as having rational meaning and end. In a striking passage 
in " The Prelude," Wordsworth contrasts his own view of the city 
with that of the multitude who live within its limits. To them its 



48 WORDSWORTH 

manifoldness presents a kind of identity, but its differences are 
lawless, meaningless, and point to no rational goal. To him, on 
the other hand, they present a unity and ennobling harmony. 
This, he informs us, was due to the Spirit of Nature that was 
upon him, revealing its essential oneness and interpreting its 
hidden meaning. 

However, the vision vouchsafed was primarily a vision of Man. 
To one having had little experience with the world, with lofty con- 
ceptions of the dignity of human nature, and its essential divine- 
ness, the revelations of a sojourn in the heart of such a great center 
as London, presenting all forms of physical and moral evil, might 
cause a violent shock ; his preconceptions and ideals might require 
decided alteration. But this was not the case with Wordsworth. 
Under the guidance of Nature he had formed his ideal of Man 
long ago among his native hills, and it did not fail when he beheld 
him under less pleasing and less promising aspects. When he 
came in contact with human ignorance and vice, with crime and 
misery, although they weighed heavily on his soul, his confidence 
in Man and in his destiny was not shaken. Neither was he in- 
duced to believe that all his preconceptions were wrong; that he 
had merely been dreaming the solitary's dream ; that, far away from 
the busy haunts of men, he had framed an ideal in ignorance of 
the real nature of the being he was dealing with, as he manifests 
himself in the complexity of relations, and under the repulsive con- 
ditions, which obtain in the great city. Heart-sick though he was 
at times, he could gaze upon the dark and dismal human picture 
and see in it touches of the divine, and its divinity shone all the 
brighter by virtue of its striking contrast with the earthliness of 
the human. This is idealism of the most wholesome type. It is 
optimism bom of a healthy poetic imagination. It is poetic power 
that penetrates outward conditions, and sees into the life of Man 
as it sees into the life of things. 

Furthermore, here in the city he beholds men not merely as 
personal units. His poetic eye sees Man in men. More than 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE CITY 49 

heretofore the Poet discerns the essential oneness of the race. In 
Man's moral endowment, whether manifesting itself in good or in 
evil, he discerns the common element of our nature. Men are all 
subject to the same moral law and to the same moral ideal. Over 
all moral conditions the same spirit presides. In the ethical sphere 
the individual transcends his individuality. He becomes universal- 
ized — a member of a great spiritual system. The real unity of the 
race is a spiritual unity. 

In Wordsworth's apprehension of the city we again note his 
mysticism. It will be recalled how, in the development of his 
poetic imagination, he attained the power of observing affinities in 
things '' where no brotherhood exists to passive minds " ; how he 
was able, by one supreme mystical poetic intuition, to grasp all 
material Reality in its essential unity, feeling the sentiment of 
'' Being spread o'er all things." The philosopher's conclusion 
became the poet's vision. And so it is when he reaches the city. 
Here, too, he sees a diversity of objects, but it is not ** blank con- 
fusion " for him, as it is for the multitudes that live within its 

borders, for whom things are 

melted and reduced 
To one identity, by differences 
That have no law, no meaning, and no end.^ 

The Spirit of Nature was upon him, and 

The soul of Beauty and enduring Life 
Vouchsafed her inspiration, and diffused, 
Through meagre lines and colours, and the press 
Of self-destroying, transitory things, 
Composure, and ennobling Harmony. '^ 

And he sees men too, multitudes of them, under divers conditions 
and in divers states — a vast, heterogeneous, motley, and often 
repulsive throng ; but his mystical mind looks beyond all individual 
peculiarities, all personal conditions, all differentiating physical and 
moral shapes, and sees the essential, the universal in Man — the 
1 The Prelude, VII, 726-728. 2 ibid., 767-771. 



50 WORDSWORTH 

tie that binds all human beings into one great system or brother- 
hood. The mystical synthetic vision is his once more, and he 
beholds 

the unity of man, 

One spirit over ignorance and vice 

Predominant in good and evil hearts ; 

One sense for moral judgments, as one eye 

For the sun's light.^ 

Now this view of the city, with unity and meaning in its mani- 
foldness of things and life, is no ordinary view. How essentially 
striking and unique it is in literature may be learned by compar- 
ing it with views of previous writers in English prose and verse. 
Legouis has made an interesting comparison of Wordsworth's 
treatment of the city with that of other poets and literary men, 
without, however, emphasizing sufficiently those features of Words- 
worth's conception which make it fundamentally unique, and in 
which its great superiority lies. So far as the prose writers are 
concerned, their treatment of London relates largely to its varied 
interests and material greatness, or it deals with detailed pictures 
of different sections of the city, or descriptions of the feelings of 
provincial folk on viewing the great metropolis. There is nothing 
specially interesting in all this, and certainly very little that is in- 
spiring. The poets, on the other hand, made the city an object of 
attack. '* Juvenal's third satire had served as a model for a series 
of invectives against the capital, beginning with a direct imitation 
by Oldham, in 1682, and continued in 'The City Shower' of 
Swift, * Trivia, or the Art of Walking the Streets of London,' 
by John Gay, down to Samuel Johnson's ' Satire on ' London.' 
Johnson is the most pronounced type of the eighteenth-century 
poets, who were for the most part inveterate townspeople, and 
would not have exchanged the shops of Fleet Street for all the 
delights of Arcadia. Faithful, nevertheless, to classical tradition, 
they held themselves bound to celebrate the charms of the country, 

1 The Prelude, VIII, 668-672. 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE CITY 5 1 

and to heap execrations upon city life." ^ Legouis further remarks 

that *'up to that time the only poet whose work had reflected 

something of the grandeur of London, was the very one who had 

turned from it in horror as a hot-bed of vice and corruption. For 

Cowper, towns were the work of man, or, in other words, of the 

devil, while the country was created by God. He had succeeded 

in suggesting a powerful image of the dreadful city, which appeared 

to him, as Satan appeared to Milton, the majestic personification 

of evil. It was the seat of the arts, of eloquence, philosophy, and 

knowledge; the market of the earth; 'the fairest capital of all 

the world.' 

Babylon of old 
Not more the glory of the earth than she, 
A more accomplished world's chief glory now. 

These utterances, however, escaped him, to some extent, in spite 
of himself, and the pious poet's indignation too soon completed 
his unfinished picture with a sermon : 

O thou, resort and mart of all the earth, 
Chequered with all complexions of mankind, 
And spotted with all crimes ; in which I see 
Much that I love, and more that I admire, 
And all that I abhor ; thou freckled fair, 
That pleases and yet shocks me, I can laugh 
And I can weep, can hope, and can despond. 
Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee ! 
Ten righteous would have saved a city once, 
And thou hast many righteous. — Well for thee 
That salt preserves thee ; more corrupted else, 
And therefore more obnoxious at this hour. 
Than Sodom in her day had power to be, 
For whom God heard his Abraham plead in vain.^ 

Here, as in other cases, the moral quickly ruined the picturesque 
effect. Left almost untouched, therefore, by Cowper, this magnifi- 
cent theme was appropriated by Wordsworth. The future poet of 

1 Legouis, The Early Life of William Wordsworth, 168. 

2 Cowper, The Task, III, 835-848. 



52 WORDSWORTH 

the lakes was really the first, if not to feel, at any rate to attempt 
to render in verse worthy of the theme, and without satirical design, 
the grandeur of London and the intensity of its life. Strange as 
this fact appears at first sight, it is less surprising when we reflect 
that the requisite striking impression could only be felt by a man 
fresh from the world outside of London, capable of new and vivid 
sensations, and sufficiently open in mind and independent of clas- 
sical authorities to venture on a frank description of his novel 
impressions. This was the new departure taken by Wordsworth. 
The man who is usually regarded as imbued with rustic prejudices 
was able to understand the strange and powerful attraction of the 
capital, and deemed it worthy of poetic treatment." ^ 

This is undoubtedly true, and it reveals the individuality of 
Wordsworth's attitude toward the city. However, the uniqueness 
and real merit of his poetic treatment of the great city does not 
lie in his descriptions of its everyday appearance and life — its 
streets and lanes, its private courts and quiet suburbs, its mu- 
seums, theaters, and homes of justice, its halls of parliament, 
with their great debates — nor of the intensity of its life, nor of its 
solitudes. It lies rather in his mystical poetic intuition, by which 
he discovers in its brick and mortar, its dirty streets and lanes, its 
deafening din, its busy life, and its motley crowds *' impregnations' 
like the Wilds " in which his early feelings had been nursed, as 
in the feelings suggested by ''that huge fermenting mass of human- 
kind" that served "as a solemn background, or relief, to single 
forms and objects " ^ — in the vision of the dignity, grandeur, and 
unity of Man, and in the sublime faith (inspired by the checkered 
human throng) in what he may become under divine guidance. 
Contrast the exalted views of the essential nature of Man which 
the city brings to him, confirming and enriching a lofty ideal 
formed under the influence of a less corrupting environment, with 
the observations of the writers referred to by Legouis. Note 

^ Legouis, The Early Life of William Wordsworth, 169-170. 
2 The Prelude, VII, 622-623. 



NATURE AND MAN IN THE CITY 53 

Wordsworth's optimism as he beholds Man under the unwhole- 
some, depressing, and diverse conditions of crowded city life, and 
proclaims his true greatness and grandeur, apprehending his soli- 
darity and unity under moral law ; note his profound insight into hu- 
man nature, and his sublime confidence in its dignity and destiny, 
and contrast them with the quasi-cynicism and pessimism involved 
in the irony and satire of previous poets, and observe how immeasur- 
ably superior the inspiration which the city brought to Wordsworth ! 
In one case we have superficial observation, ironical description, 
and more or less of skeptical interpretation ; in the other we have 
poetic insight, profound faith, and hopeful outlook. They deal 
with Men ; he deals with Man. They deal with the individual ; 
he deals with the universal. They deal with the incidental ; he 
deals with the essential. Their imagination is burdened with the 
weight of sense; his mounts on the wings of spirit. They see 
largely outward aspects ; he sees into the life of things and men. 
In short, we have in Wordsworth the vision and prophecy of the 
seer — the truest and sublimest poet, the idealist and optimist. 
And if we are to determine his historical position or significance 
with reference to the treatment of the city in literature, we shall 
find it in these lofty visions and conceptions of things and men 
which the city brought to him, and which he has embodied in 
noble and inspiring verse. 

We are apt to miss the real significance of Wordsworth's second 
visit to London unless we carefully note his personal attitude 
toward Man during this brief sojourn. The eighth book of ''The 
Prelude " is entitled " Retrospect" ; but it also bears the subtitle, 
"Love of Nature leading to Love of Man." Many writers on 
Wordsworth are so occupied with his views of Nature that they 
apparently fail to recognize the fact that Wordsworth, during the 
best years of his career as a poet, was primarily interested in Man. 
Man was the supreme pbject of his thought and affections — the 
chief source and end of his poetical inspiration. Nature is recog- 
nized as a teacher leading to a proper attitude toward Man. 



54 WORDSWORTH 

Of course, in his early years, and here also, in London, Nature is 
still sovereign in his heart ; but all along, *' by slow gradations," 
she has been leading his thoughts to human-kind, and we shall 
fail of the real import of this London visit unless we see in it how, 
under her inspiration and guidance, Man becomes more and more 
an object of affectionate regard, a source of poetic contemplation 
and feeling, resulting in enlarged and exalted views of his essential 
dignity and greatness, his noble destiny, and the oneness of the 
race under moral law. Addressing Coleridge on this subject, the 
Poet says : 

Thus from a very early age, O Friend ! 
My thoughts by slow gradations had been drawn 
To human-kind, and to the good and ill 
Of human life : Nature had led me on ; 
And oft amid the " busy hum " I seemed 
To travel independent of her help, 
As if I had forgotten her ; but no, 
The world of human-kind outweighed not hers 
In my habitual thoughts ; the scale of love, 
Though filling daily, still was light, compared 
With that in which her mighty objects lay.^ 

But the '' scale of love " was filling somewhat rapidly here in the 
city, and though still light compared with the scale of love for 
Nature, it was daily growing heavier, and we shall see in the next 
chapter that *'the world of human-kind" was destined soon to 
outweigh the world of Nature in the Poet's affections. At present, 
Man is only an occasional delight, *' an accidental grace," whereas 
Nature is *' a passion," indeed *' a rapture often," and an *' imme- 
diate love ever at hand." But Man's hour is not far distant. Only 
one more summer must be told before he too shall become not 
only a passion but a rapture, and ever afterwards the supreme 
object of Wordsworth's love and art.^ 

1 The Prelude, VIII, 676-686. 2 ibid., 346-356. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 

Wordsworth was more or less prepared, by his previous Hfe and 
training, to sympathize with the aims and underlying principles of 
the great social and political conflict raging across the channel. In 
his boyhood and youth his social environment was such that he 
had rarely come in contact with men who were accustomed to re- 
ceive attention because of their wealth or blood. He lived where 
these artificial social relations did not abound. Furthermore, in 
his college career he shared in the democratic life which usually 
prevails in academic "circles — a democracy which recognizes the 
members of such circles as '' brothers all in honour, as in one com- 
munity, scholars and gentlemen," where distinction was open to 
all, and talents, worth, and successful industry counted for more 
than wealth and titles. Again, he had been prepared for this hour 
by the fact that he had learned from the beginning subservience 
*' to presences of God's mysterious power," which were made mani- 
fest in the sovereignty of Nature ; also by '' fellowship with vener- 
able books " that sanctioned the consciousness of the dignity and 
lofty powers of the soul and its freedom. Hence, he says, 

it could not be 
But that one tutored thus should look with awe 
Upon the faculties of man, receive 
Gladly the highest promises, and hail 
As best, the government of equal rights 
And individual worth. ^ 

So that, when he visited France in the summer of 1791, he soon 
became deeply interested in the course of events ; and it was not 

1 The Prelude, IX, 238-243. 
55 



56 WORDSWORTH 

long before he was identified in sympathy with what he deemed 
to be the sacred cause of the people. As he came into closer con- 
tact with the momentous situation he was profoundly impressed with 
its significance. In his enthusiasm he saw it loom large with prom- 
ise, not only for France, but for the whole world, and he followed 
its varying fortunes with anxious interest. It was soon evident that 
under the influence of political events he was rapidly reaching a 
crisis in his career, for they were intimately related to his mental 
and spiritual life. It was primarily through the French Revolution 
that he became specially interested in Man. For him, as we have 
seen, the Revolution was not merely a local movement; it had 
meaning also for humanity at large. It was a movement in the 
interest of a greater liberty for the race, which would prove a tre- 
mendous advantage to human progress. It carried with it larger 
rights for the masses, and less authority for the classes. The es- 
sential rights of Man were to be gained and maintained. Words- 
worth was borne along by his enthusiasm and hopes for the cause 
to such an extent that soon he was steeped in republicanism, de- 
spite his natural conservatism and the form of government under 
which he was born and reared. However, -his republicanism was 
not the blind enthusiasm of a fanatic. It was not a faith without 
at least some rational foundation. The French Revolution l;ad its 
intellectual side. Indeed, one of the things that prepared the way 
for this great crisis was French philosophy of the eighteenth century. 
Many of the most ardent revolutionists were affected by the phi- 
losophy of Rousseau and the Encyclopaedists. The Revolution, of 
course, involved certain fundamental conceptions and principles con- 
cerning Man — his nature, dignity, and rights, both natural and 
political — and the nature, functions, forms, and ends of political 
government. These were questions which appealed to reason for 
solution, and many of the principles laid down for practical adoption 
were proclaimed in the name of this exalted faculty. Tradition in 
politics and religion was thrown aside, and both were brought be- 
fore the bar of man's rational nature. Indeed, with many of the 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 57 

patriots reason was deified. Even with the sansculotte the Goddess 
of Reason was enthroned in Paris in 1793. 

Wordsworth was affected by the saner rationalistic spirit of the 
age. In the eleventh book of '' The Prelude " he traces, with the 
hand of a skilled psychologist, his mental unfolding under the influ- 
ence of the times — a mental evolution along the lines of reflective 
thought, which begins with great joy and hopefulness, with nai've 
confidence in the conformity of the world of fact to the world of 
reason, and with a corresponding optimism, and ends in the tempo- 
rary wreck of his poetic imagination, in his despiritualization of 
Nature, in loss of faith in Man, and in moral skepticism and de- 
spair. This is one of the most interesting as well as one of the 
most pathetic chapters in the personal history of the poet. 

Early in life (as early, indeed, as his twentieth year) Words- 
worth became interested in political questions. He approached 
such questions with the optimism of youth, believing in the essen- 
tial goodness of human nature and in the supreme worth and 
might of the principles of moral reason ; and he was willing, if 
need be, to fight and die for his faith. What is best in the indi- 
vidual, ''wise in passion," ''sublime in power," "benevolent in small 
societies, and great in large ones" — these were questions which 
were often considered by him, -and concerning which he felt deeply, 
although he did not clearly understand them. But with a general 
insight into the nature of evil, and its distinction from good, he 
soon began to devote himself earnestly to a more formal and sys- 
tematic consideration of the problems of government. His political 
reflection was not the academic reflection of the student; it was 
bom of a deep interest in current political and social conditions. 
He found great hope and pleasure in his reasoning. Indeed, Rea- 
son seemed to be a veritable enchantress, assisting the work that 
was being done in her name. She seemed to be on the side of 
what he deemed to be socially and politically right. The earth wore 
a cheerful aspect, it was clothed in the beauty of promise, and at 
this time he found it bliss to be alive, and very heaven to be young. 



58 WORDSWORTH 

Under the stimulus of events Wordsworth had been forming his 
social and political ideal. He dreamed a dream of social good, but 
it was not merely a dream — no mere Utopia. It was a dream in 
the form of a rationalized social ideal, formed by meditation and 
reflection. Having its foundations in Eternal Reason, its might and 
right could not be doubted. According to his belief, events were 
soon to conform to what it sanctioned and demanded. In this 
serene ethical faith he moved about, '* an active partisan," making 
things suit his ends, and entertaining genial feelings toward those 
who differed from him in their political views. 

Now with all the changes that had taken place since he had 
first become interested in the cause of the Revolution — the for- 
tunes and misfortunes, the successes and failures — this really was 
his general state of mind until his own country entered into war 
with France. This action proved a great moral shock to Words- 
worth. It affected him so seriously not merely because he was a 
partisan of the cause, but because he was a rational partisan. How 
was Britain's action to be reconciled with his ethical faith ? What 
rational justification had England for this step t In his judgment 
she had none. Nevertheless her action was a fact, and a tremen- 
dously real fact, and it shattered his confidence in the essential 
harmony between the world of reality and the world of rationality. 
His faith was too highly colored by emotion — by personal wish 
and desire. Reason may be justified in its conclusion as to what 
ought to be done in a given situation, or under certain conditions, 
but it does not follow that what ought to be necessarily /j, or will 
be, at least in the near future. Ethical faith, based upon calm re- 
flection, may be justified in affirming that, sooner or later, truth 
and righteousness will prevail, but the mystery and tragedy of the 
moral world is just this awful lack of conformity of fact to the 
Right. Here faith must have a wide horizon and a large perspec- 
tive. What is more common than to see right at least temporarily 
defeated, and wrong victorious ? This is the case with individuals ; 
why should it not be with nations } Here is where Wordsworth's 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 59 

faith, though in a measure well grounded, failed him. And he suf- 
fered a terrible shock, the mental and spiritual reaction being 
most unfortunate. 

In the eleventh book of ** The Prelude " Wordsworth treats 
more specifically of the nature of this shock to his moral being 
caused by England's behavior. It stands in striking contrast to the 
mental state which he describes as having been his up to the time 
of the sorrowful event. It was this action that first threw him '' out 
of the pale of love," souring and corrupting his sentiments at their 
very source. He was no longer enabled to see in such actions a 
case of lesser things being swallowed up in greater, but rather a 
contrariety in things, which led him to serious mistakes and false 
and dangerous conclusions. A feeling of pride in his own country 
was changed into a sense of shame ; his likes and loves were di- 
rected into a new channel, and the old ones ran dry. An event 
which in later years would only have affected his judgment now 
struck deep into his emotional nature. It was a blow at his heart, 
the very center of his moral being. This moral shock is a significant 
fact in Wordsworth's history, for it had much to do in bringing 
about a crisis which proved to be one of the most potent factors in 
determining his future career as a poet, ultimately humanizing his 
affections still more, and thus directly and indirectly affecting both 
the form and the content of his poetry. 

Wordsworth gradually began to feel the necessity of grounding 
his sentiments on surer evidence than that afforded by mere 
*' inward consciousness." Things were going from bad to worse in 
France. Events did not seem capable of interpretation from the 
standpoint of moral reason. And, as his mind was gradually matur- 
ing, the criterion by which he was wont to judge of events no longer 
satisfied him. He was therefore compelled to cast about for some- 
thing better. Under these circumstances he fell back upon tenets 
having at least the authority of age. Still he did not abandon reflec- 
tive or speculative thought. Rather did he pursue it farther than 
ever before — so far, indeed, that it led him into rational and moral 



6o WORDSWORTH 

chaos and despair. Because of the condition of the times, specu- 
lation became more abstract — farther removed from the current 
of events. It was more and more hfted from the realm of passion 
into the realm of pure reason. Man, in the conscious possession of 
the lordly powers of reason and will, destined sooner or later to shake 
off the tyranny of custom and law, and to build up social liberty on 
personal freedom, guided by the light of circumstances, constituted 
a delightful object for the reflective mind to consider. Man, thus 
regarded, appealed to Wordsworth. He contemplated him with 
great satisfaction — all the greater, indeed, by virtue of the marked 
contrast presented by men as he had observed them during the 
stormy period of the Revolution. The result was that he again 
took heart. 

But to take refuge in pure reason is not always a safe course for 
certain minds to pursue. The rationalistic spirit lives largely by 
proof, which is often far from possible, and then skepticism is 
likely to follow. This spirit carries its methods into spheres of life 
in which strict logical proof is not the way of approach to Reality. 
Barrenness, and often worse, is the outcome. It proved to be so 
in Wordsworth's case. He had forsaken the light by which his 

sentiments had been 

by faith maintained 
Of inward consciousness, and hope that laid 
Her hand upon her object.^ 

He wanted a safer guide, and, finding tradition and ancient tenets 
insufficient, he finally accepted pure reason, free from instinct, pas- 
sion, and sentiment, with the melancholy result that he was led into 
utter darkness. All things — "all precepts, judgments, maxims, 
creeds '* — were dragged to the bar of Reason. They were treated 
like culprits. The mind herself was viewed with suspicion, and was 
called upon to vindicate her own veracity, dignity, and honor. 
Reason sat in judgment even upon herself, often attended by 
grave suspicion. Wordsworth was now in a state of vacillation. 

1 The Prelude, XI, 201-203. 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 6 1 

Sometimes he believed ; sometimes he doubted. The great prob- 
lems of motive, the nature of right and wrong, the ground of 
moral obligation, its rule and source of authority, were questions 
that perplexed him beyond measure. So critical and suspicious did 
he become that ultimately nothing could be accepted without proof. 
This, indeed, was demanded and sought, and, not finding it, he 
finally gave up in skepticism and despair the consideration of moral 
problems.^ His philosophizing ended ignominiously. It resulted in 
complete failure, bringing disaster to his spiritual life. It led him 
into deepest darkness — into a night apparently devoid of any star 
of hope. 

It is well to note that it was moral skepticism and despair which 
were the outcome of his reflective thinking — the most serious 
kind of doubt and dejection that can lay hold upon the human 
spirit, because of the vital relation which morality sustains to life. 
Morality is the fact of supreme worth for human nature ; it, above 
all things, unifies, dignifies, and exalts the human soul. It has the 
same value for society, which, indeed, is based upon it, is held 
together by it, and progresses only when dominated by its ideals 
and imperatives. How essential, then, that its commands should be 
clear, unmistakable, categorical ! Why should there be any question 
about them ; why any doubt } And yet Wordsworth did find grounds 
for serious doubt. Inquiring into the ultimate source of their 
authority, the ultimate ground of ethical obligation, the reality of 
free will, and the nature of the moral ideal, he found human 
opinion so divided, indeed so contradictory, and the moral nature 
itself apparently so at variance with itself, that it became exceed- 
ingly difficult to attain to a definite and abiding conviction. As 
a consequence, moral skepticism was the outcome : 

This was the crisis of that strong disease, 
This the soul's last and lowest ebb ; I drooped, 
Deeming our blessed reason of least use 
Where wanted most : " The lordly attributes 

1 The Prelude, XI, 293-305. 



62 WORDSWORTH 

Of will and choice," I bitterly exclaimed, 

" What are they but a mockery of a Being 

Who hath in no concerns of his a test 

Of good and evil ; knows not what to fear 

Or hope for, what to covet or to shun ; 

And who, if those could be discerned, would yet 

Be little profited, would see, and ask 

Where is the obligation to enforce ? 

And, to acknowledged law rebellious, still, 

As selfish passion urged, would act amiss ; 

The dupe of folly, or the slave of crime." '• 

There was, too, another loss, of a very serious nature, that 
Wordsworth sustained because of this rationalistic spirit. His 
mind had degenerated into a logic-machine. It could, 

unsoul 
As readily by syllogistic words 
Those mysteries of being which have made, 
And shall continue evermore to make, 
Of the whole human race one brotherhood,^ 

as, by a mere wave of the hand, a wizard dissolves a palace or a grove. 
Such a mind was bound to suffer deterioration of imaginative power 
— of poetic vision and insight. This was the case with Wordsworth, 
and this serious loss added to the pathos of his condition. With 
faith in the integrity of moral reason gone, there might be some 
consolation in the visions and illuminations of the poetic imagination. 
But this faculty had apparently been destroyed by the critical spirit, 
and, as a result, Wordsworth was robbed of his poetic conception 
both of Man and of Nature. As to Man, what a sorry spectacle 
he presented compared with the being that youthful imagination 
had transfigured and idealized, when as a boy he roamed over his 
native hills, and saw the rude shepherd, with his heroic mien, *' glori- 
fied by the deep radiance of the setting sun," and his young heart 
was *' introduced to an unconscious love and reverence of human 
nature." ^ Nature then gave a sanctity to Man that appealed to 

1 The Prelude, XI, 306-320. 2 ibid,, XII, 83-87. » Ibid., VIII, 256!. 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 63 

the boy's imagination, and he formed an ideal of human-kind that 

later proved 

a sure safeguard and defence 
Against the weight of meanness, selfish cares, 
Coarse manners, vulgar passions, that beat in 
On all sides from the ordinary world 
In which we traffic. ^ 

Compare the picture of Man which an arid, rational skepticism 
portrayed for him to the glorious picture that was presented to his 
poetic eye even under the depressing conditions of city life. There 
in London he saw the divineness of human nature shining through 
the portentous gloom, and shining more brightly because of the 
contrast. There, where he saw man at his worst, he also saw him 
at his best, and beheld the dignity of his rational and moral invest- 
iture, as well as the glory of a noble destiny. But now he beholds 
Man with the eye of reason; and the pity of it all is that, when 
it presents a distorted picture, he finds the eye of imagination 
apparently destroyed, and there is no power within to sketch a true 
likeness of him who was the cherished object of his love. 

Alas ! this, too, is the case concerning Nature. Nature, his early 
love, who ministered to him in his childhood and youth ; who, 
by her visitations, warned, counseled, and sustained him; who re- 
freshed him with her beauty, and gave him vision and insight — 
she, too, is now viewed with a critical eye. The vision once vouch- 
safed, by which he saw all things bound together in a brotherhood 
and animated by one living Spirit, gave way to an analytical scrutiny. 
Now he scanned Nature just as he had scanned the moral world. 
He looked at her through a microscope, going from part to part, 
from scene to scene, losing sight of her unity, her wholeness. As 
a result he lost that sense of intimacy which was one of the dearest 
possessions of his boyhood and youth. He was lost, also, to her 
moral power. The senses gained dominion over his soul as he 
came in contact with her, and they ruled with the scepter of tyranny. 

1 The Prelude, VIII, 318-322. 



64 WORDSWORTH 

They laid the inner powers asleep. How different this from his 
relation to Nature in the earlier years ! Then he waited on her, 
not only with eye and ear awake, but also with a heart ready to 
worship and receive. Then he loved intensely whatever he saw. 
He ''felt, observed and pondered" as he stood in her presence. 
Never did he think of judging her. He was filled and satisfied 
with her glory. So also was it in the Alps. There he was intoxi- 
cated with her beauty, overcome by her majesty, and he loved and 
worshiped her with a grateful and reverent heart. But how is it 
now } He looks at her with sense apart from soul. He sees her 
outward aspect, but fails to see into her inner life. The beautiful 
vision is gone. Imagination seems dead, and sensibility dulled. 
Nature is robbed of her spiritual charm and power. For him she 
no longer has a heart and utters no consoling message; she no 
longer ministers through beauty and aesthetic joy. The mystic 
sense of kinship has vanished. He has unsouled her, and stands, a 
spiritual orphan, in the midst of a dead universe. In short, the poet 
is lost in the skeptical philosopher. He stands not only in a world 
of moral chaos and darkness, but also in a soulless universe, that 
once was alive with the transcendent beauty and grace of an all- 
pervading Spirit. 

This picture is not overdrawn if we are to accept the Poet's own 
account of his mental condition during this period. It is a tragic 
tale that he tells, as he contrasts his relations to Nature at this 
time with those of former years. 

What wonder, then, if, to a mind so far 

Perverted, even the visible Universe 

Fell under the dominion of a taste 

Less spiritual, with microscopic view 

Was scanned, as I had scanned the moral world ? ^ 

The result of thus scanning '' the visible Universe ^* is manifest in 
his address to the Soul of Nature. 

1 The Prelude, XII, 88-92. 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 65 

O Soul of Nature ! excellent and fair ! 
Thou didst rejoice with me, with whom I, too, 
Rejoiced through early youth, before the winds 
And roaring waters, and in lights and shades 
That marched and countermarched about the hiUs 
In glorious apparition. Powers on whom 
I daily waited, now all eye and now 
All ear ; but never long without the heart 
Employed, and man's unfolding intellect : 
O Soul of Nature ! that, by laws divine 
Sustained and governed, still dost overflow 
With an impassioned life, what feeble ones 
Walk on this earth ! ho^r feeble have I been 
When thou wert in thy strength ! Nor this through stroke 
Of human suffering, such as justifies 
Remissness and inaptitude of mind. 
But through presumption ; even in pleasure pleased 
Unworthily, disliking here, and there 
Liking ; by rules of mimic art transferred 
To things above all art ; but more, — for this, 
Although a strong infection of the age, 
Was never much my habit — giving way 
To a comparison of scene with scene. 
Bent overmuch on superficial things, 
Pampering myself with meagre novelties 
Of colour and proportion ; to the moods 
Of time and season, to the moral power, 
The affections and the spirit of the place. 
Insensible.^ 

This certainly represents a tremendous change in mental attitude 
and feeling. It reveals the world-wide difference between the ana- 
lytic and the synthetic, the critical and the poetic view of Nature 
and Man. He has unsouled the objects of his love, robbing one 
of spiritual life, and the other of the integrity of his essential con- 
stitution as a moral being, and the former lover of Nature and 
Man is now a spiritual wreck in the midst of a lifeless world. 

This rationalistic speculation and criticism, which resulted so 
unfortunately to Wordsworth's mental and spiritual life, received, 

1 The Prelude, XII, 93-121. 



66 WORDSWORTH 

to a certain extent, its bent or direction from another mind than 
Wordsworth's. Just as many of the active partisans of the revolu- 
tionary cause had their intellectual leaders in Rousseau and the 
Encyclopasdists, so a number of English sympathizers with the 
republican tendencies of the age had their intellectual leader. This 
leader was William Godwin. He seems to have attracted the atten- 
tion of a number of poets, for he was on friendly terms with Cole- 
ridge, Lamb, Wordsworth, and Shelley — the latter marrying his 
daughter. Coleridge has a sonnet dedicated to him, crediting him 
with much virtue and power, although later he was far removed 
from him in sentiment and thought. Shelley, with his radical social 
ideas and his susceptible nature, was enthusiastic in his admiration 
for him. In 1793 Godwin published his political treatise *' Enquiry 
Concerning Political Justice." Wordsworth was familiar with his 
political philosophy, and was greatly influenced by it. In view of 
the radical, if not, indeed, revolutionary character of his treatise, 
one cannot help wondering how such a mind as Wordsworth's 
came to be dominated by the principles therein advocated. In it a 
bald individualism is taught, which makes the individual superior 
to all organized social restraints, whether they be of the nature 
of conventionalities, customs, institutions, or laws. According to 
Godwin, reason is the great faculty of the mind, and the end of 
education is to develop the individual in the rational exercise of 
freedom.^ 

But there are certain things which stand in the way of a proper 
development and exercise of the individual's rational judgment. 
These are the institutions and customs of society — political, moral, 
and religious. These mislead him, restrain him, and often enslave 
him. They are a prolific source of social evils, and, as such, ought 
to be abolished. How, then, shall man be governed in his social 
relations, since he exists in a society of beings constituted like him- 
self ? According to Godwin, justice is a natural law, and it is the 
great law that governs social interaction, its end being human 

1 Godwin, Enquiry, I, i, v ; also 11, vi. 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 67 

welfare, the highest good of all, the welfare of an aggregate of 
individuals, for this is what constitutes society in the final analy- 
sis. If there be political government at all, its authority ultimately 
rests with these individuals, and in such political government they 
are not to be bound together by social contract, but by open deliber- 
ation with reference to common concerns. '' The true and only 
adequate apology of government is necessity»; the office of common 
deliberation is solely to supply the most eligible means of meeting 
that necessity." ^ We see here the emphasis laid on the individual. 
Indeed, the less political government the better. The ideal state of 
society would be a state in which each man should govern himself 
in the light of human reason, under the universal law of justice. 
Even the general rules of morality, while in a measure useful be- 
cause of our imperfection and indolence, are not the best guides 
for man's government. Rather ought we to view each case of 
conduct in the light of its own evidence, and decide it on its 
own merits .2 

We see in Godwin's political philosophy merely the philosophy 
of a dreamer or visionary. He is dealing with hypothetical and 
not with real men — with men practically removed from the sphere 
of passion, and living in the realm of pure reason. Such beings 
are easily regulated by reason, and make rapid progress in the 
rational exercise of freedom. They need no restraint of custom 
and law, and, to a certain extent, only the restraints of the general 
rules of morality. Godwin's ''society" is simply an unrealizable 
Utopia, but it had its influence in its day. Being rooted in the 
most radical kind of democracy, it was acceptable doctrine in 
an age full of the spirit of social revolution. Wordsworth was 
captivated by this spirit, and, guided by Godwin, he proceeded 
*' to anatomise the frame of social life," and to search '' the 
whole body of society " to its very heart. Even his master's 
utopianism was converted into the Poet's visionary and imprac- 
ticable social dream. 

1 Godwin, Enquiry, I, 11, ii ; also iv. ^ Qp. cit. I, iv, vi. 



68 WORDSWORTH 

What delight ! 
How glorious ! in self-knowledge and self-rule. 
To look through all the frailties of the world, 
And, with a resolute mastery shaking off 
Infirmities of nature, time, and place, 
Build social upon personal Liberty, 
Which, to the blind restraints of general laws 
Superior, magisterially adopts 
One guide, the light of circumstances, flashed 
Upon an independent intellect.^ 

And, as we have seen, this spirit of rationalism, so characteristic 
of the age and so manifest in Godwin's political philosophy, was 
applied by Wordsworth not only to the study of social and political 
institutions but to the study of Man himself in his essential con- 
stitution, as well as to Nature. The poet who beholds things with 
the eye of the imagination was converted into the philosopher who 
views them with the eye of reason, with the disastrous results 
recorded above. 

With his hopes and dreams of social good vanished, with his 
confidence in the integrity of moral reason shattered, with his 
poetic vision of Nature gone, little wonder was it that he sank into 
the abysmal depths of moral despair — a veritable slough of de- 
spond. Only time and careful nursing could enable him to rise from 
such an apparent spiritual death into a renewed life — the life of a 
larger faith, a saner hope, and a more lasting joy — that should 
witness a rebirth of the poetic soul, and turn again to Nature and 
Man in confidence and tender love, finding in them once more 
generous sources of inspiration and power. 

The experiences of Wordsworth during the years of which we 
have been writing undoubtedly had a marked significance for his 
art. They had made an impression which was bound to influence 
more or less permanently his life of imagination, thought, and 
feeling, as these found expression in his poetry. In the first place, 
they were instrumental in bringing about, by the aid of his sister, 

1 The Prelude, XI, 235-244. 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 69 

a definite decision with reference to his pursuit of the high vocation. 
The extremity of soul to which they had led him afforded Dorothy 
Wordsworth an opportunity to turn his attention again to poetry, 
and to make him seek beneath the poet's name his earthly office. 
But secondly, they were responsible for more than this. In a large 
measure they determined the direction of his mind with reference 
to the content and form of his poetry. So far as its subject- 
matter was concerned, Wordsworth, after his convalescence, turned 
again to Nature, the old-time source of his inspiration. But we 
find his mental attitude changed and colored by his sorrowful 
experience. In the former days, despite occasional moments of 
soul-illumination, when he saw into the life of things — apprehend- 
ing Nature as invested with a spiritual Presence — he was often 
lost in the sense -vision. Henceforth, however, his vision became 
more spiritual. Nature for him was alive with feeling, thought, and 
sympathetic love. Henceforth he finds her touched with a feeling 
of Man's infirmities. There is a human note in her voice, and she 
breathes consolation, calmness, and peace to his spirit. She becomes 
the anchor of his purest thoughts, the nurse, guide, and guardian 
of his heart, and the very soul of his moral being — all of which is 
manifest in the Nature-poetry which was the fruit of his labors 
during the years immediately following. 

Again, the experience of these momentous years brought about 
the birth of the poet of Man. Through it Nature led him gradually 
from love of herself to love of his own kind. At first this had most 
unfortunate results. It destroyed his faith in men and Man, and 
left him in gross spiritual darkness. But after he had emerged 
from the gloom of the skeptic's night, Man became more than ever 
the object of his regard, and he approached him with a mind and 
heart profoundly affected by his tragic experience — with a soul 
chastened and subdued. He now understood Man better than 
before. He had entered into his universal life in a manner that 
was previously impossible. He understood his basal needs, and 
beheld his intrinsic worth as only great suffering could reveal them. 



70 WORDSWORTH 

He became the lover of men, championing and defending human 
rights, exploiting and extolling human virtue. The *' Lyrical 
Ballads," many of the '' Poems dedicated to National Independence 
and Liberty," ''The Excursion," the intensely human poems of 
the Grasmere period, and still others to be considered will make 
this evident. 

In view of all this the careful student of Wordsworth's life and 
poetry is amazed to read, in an interesting essay by Professor 
Masson, that " he [Wordsworth] appears to have passed through 
the battle of life all but unwounded. . . . Passing through the 
world as a pilgrim, pure-minded, and even sad with the sense 
of the mysterious future, nothing occurred in his journey to strike 
him down as a dead man, and agonize him into a full knowledge 
of the whole mystery of the present. Hence, we believe, the want 
of that intensity in his poetry which we find in the writings, not 
only of the so-called subjective poets, such as Byron and Dante, 
but also of the greatest objective poets, as Goethe and Shakespeare. 
The ink of Wordsworth is rarely his own blood." ^ This, assuredly, 
is a mistaken view of our Poet. He was struck down as a dead 
man. When England took up arms against France he sustained a 
shock so sudden and so severe that it affected his entire moral 
being. The awful tragedies of the French Revolution — the inde- 
scribable suffering, the wild passion, the infidelity of its leaders, the 
crimes committed in the name of liberty — made him stand in blank 
amazement at the weakness and wickedness of men. The mad 
course of events, its contradiction of all that right reason would 
lead him to expect, his gradual loss of faith in men and Man, 
brought on a mental and spiritual suffering that seemed even 
worse than death. All of this was a shock — a sustained mental 
and moral shock — that paralyzed his spiritual being. If ever a 
man had reason to sink beneath ''the burthen of the mystery," 
" of all this unintelligible world," with its heavy and weary weight, 

^ Masson's Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, and other Essays, 69-70, London and 
New York, 1874. 



A MENTAL AND MORAL CRISIS 7 1 

Wordsworth was that man during these eventful years. And he 
did sink. What worse fate could attend a man " passing through 
the world as a pilgrim " than that which attended Wordsworth's life 
at this time ? The pain was not less intense because long sustained, 
nor was the shock less sudden and severe when it came with its 
full force upon him. The effects are manifest in the humanizing 
influence it had upon him and his art. It is manifest in the actual 
presence of that very intensity which Professor Masson finds absent 
in his poetry. There is intense passion, as well as a *' calm and 
almost terrible strength," to use Professor Raleigh's phrase, in many 
of Wordsworth's poems. It is evident in such poems as ''Ruth," 

"The Brothers," "Michael," "The Affliction of Margaret ," 

" The White Doe of Rylstone," in certain portions of " The Excur- 
sion," and in many of the political sonnets. In writing these poems, 
and others like them, "the ink of Wordsworth " is "his own blood." 
Such intensity of passion and, on the other hand, such " calm and 
almost terrible strength " were possible to him, and to his art, be- 
cause he had passed through these terrible fires of suffering. He 
was able to become the poet of Man because his sensitive soul was 
called upon to bear the human burden, with its tremendous stress 
of unintelligible experience, before he had yet been fairly initiated 
into the poet's life. He underwent " Love's sorrow," if not thus 
early for a specific individual, certainly for mankind, and he was 
awakened not only to " the melancholy side of things " but to the 
mysterious darkness that shrouds the world both of things and of 
men. The inevitable logic of it all is seen in poetry that is the 
product of an imagination warmed by a heart which, through suffer- 
ing, got closer than ever to the great, consoling, calming, resource- 
ful heart of Nature, and gained a deeper insight into, and throbbed 
with a profounder love for, the burthened heart of Man. 



CHAPTER V 

DOROTHY WORDSWORTH. SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 

Wordsworth did not emerge at once from the depths of moral 
despair into which he had been plunged by the course of political 
events and by his loss of faith in moral reason. The human soul 
does not behave in that way. It requires time to recover from such 
a moral disease. However, the strength and nobility of his char- 
acter are manifest in the manner in which he bore himself in this 
crisis of his life. He gave a remarkable exhibition of sanity and 
self-control under the circumstances. In '' The Prelude " he hints 
at the temptations of such a mental state. On the one hand, with- 
out faith in men and in the essential integrity of Man's rational 
and moral constitution, there is danger of growing spiritually cal- 
lous and cynical — of scoffing at truth and virtue. On the other 
hand, there is also a temptation to idleness and waste of powers, 
especially those having to do with the pursuit of truth and the 
acquisition of knowledge. If Man's intellectual endeavor ends in 
defeat and moral despair, because of his constitutional impotency 
of mind, why make any further effort .? If the tempter approached 
Wordsworth in either of these ways, or in both, he found him 
invulnerable. Depressed and bewildered though he was, he did 
not permit himself to yield to hardness and cynicism. Perplexed 
almost to distraction, and skeptical in regard to men and Man, he 
did not choose to " walk with scoffers," '' seeking light and gay 
revenge from indiscriminate laughter." He still loved too much 
the life of serious thought, and the truth which is its own reward, 
to be reconciled to a life of mental idleness and waste. In this 
time of disappointment and despair he turned to an abstract 
world — the world of mathematics and physics. Here reason could 

72 



SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 73 

find employment in a sphere free from disturbances of space and 
time occasioned by material objects or by human action. But this 
resort to abstract reasoning proved to be only a partial and 
temporary relief to his mind. He was suffering from a severe 
mental and spiritual malady — a ''strong disease." He needed 
a physician to effect a complete and permanent cure, or some one 
to nurse him back to health. He could not do this for himself. 
Fortunately for him, and also for the world, such a one was at 
hand. It was chiefly to his sister, Dorothy Wordsworth, that he 
owed his gradual but complete recovery, and was saved from 
himself and to the poet's art. 

Dorothy Wordsworth was in some respects an unusual per- 
sonality, endowed with exceptional powers of mind and heart. 
Hers was a mind gifted with keen powers of observation, delicate 
and tender sensibility, and a refined and lively imagination. Her 
nature was essentially poetic. To these qualities of mind were 
added rare qualities of heart. She was generous and affectionate, 
absolutely unselfish in her devotion to others, and especially to 
her brother William, which made her an invaluable aid to him 
both as a man and as a poet. She was not merely his sister by 
virtue of being the child of his parents, but in a higher and 
truer sense — in spiritual endowment and affinity. She was, as he 
called her, the sister of his soul. 

There seems to be an essential agreement of opinion and 
sentiment, among those who knew her best, in regard to the 
admirable qualities possessed by this simple, unique woman. 
Coleridge, in a letter to Cottle, says : '' W. and his exquisite 
sister are with me. She is a woman indeed ! in mind I mean, and 
heart ; for her person is such that if you expected to see a pretty 
woman, you would think her rather ordinary ; if you expected to see 
an ordinary woman, you would think her pretty ! but her manners 
are simple, ardent, impressive. In every motion her most innocent 
soul outbeams so brightly, that who saw would say — 
' Guilt was a thing impossible with her.' 



74 WORDSWORTH 

Her information various. Her eye watchful in minutest observation 
of Nature ; and her taste a perfect electrometer. It bends, pro- 
trudes, and draws in at subtlest beauties and most recondite faults." ^ 
De Quincey was long an intimate friend of the Wordsworths, and 
had excellent opportunities to study the personality and character 
of Dorothy. Later the friendly relations existing between them 
were broken, and the Poet and his sister did not escape the 
criticism of his caustic and gossipy pen. But long after he had 
been alienated from them, he wrote of Miss Wordsworth : '' She 
was a person of very remarkable endowments intellectually ; and, 
in addition to other great services which she rendered to her 
brother, this I may mention, as greater than all the rest, and it 
was one which equally operated to the benefit of every casual com- 
panion in a walk — viz. the exceeding sympathy, always ready and 
always profound, by which she made all that one could tell her, 
all that one could describe, all that one could quote from a foreign 
author, reverberate as it were a plusieurs reprises^ to one's own 
feelings, by the manifest impression it made upon her. The pulses 
of light are not more quick or more inevitable in their flow and 
undulation, than were the answering and echoing movements of 
her sympathizing attention. Her knowledge of literature was 
irregular, and not systematically built up. She was content to be 
ignorant of many things ; but what she knew and had really mas- 
tered, lay where it could not be disturbed, in the temper of her 
own most fervid heart." ^ 

Such were the qualities, mental and spiritual, possessed by Words- 
worth's sister. From childhood William and Dorothy had been very 
close in sympathy and interests. Together they roamed the fields, 
hills, and mountains of their native region. Endowed with unu- 
sual perceptive powers, imagination, and poetic feeling, they were 
keenly alive to the natural beauty of their surroundings. And when 
the force of circumstances — Wordsworth's school and university 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 112-113. 

2 De Quincey, Literary Reminiscences, 277-278, New York, 1878. Cf . also 344-372. 



SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 75 

life, his travels and wanderings — interrupted this pleasant com- 
panionship, their correspondence breathed tender and sweet affec- 
tion. In her letters to others, also, Dorothy seldom failed to put 
on record her great happiness when more fortunate circumstances 
brought them together again. Her poetic temperament enabled her 
to understand her brother's moods, and sympathize with his aims 
and interests. From boyhood on through mature manhood he found 
in her a great source of comfort, strength, and inspiration. That he 
fully appreciated her worth and real helpfulness is manifest in his 
verse. In '' The Sparrow's Nest " she is not only the blessing of 
his later years but also a gracious influence in his early life : 

The Blessing of my later years 
Was with me when a boy : 
She gave me eyes, she gave me ears ; 
And humble cares, and delicate fears ; 
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears ; 
And love, and thought, and joy.^ 

In ** The Prelude " he tells us how, by her tenderness and love, 
she led him to a less austere view of Nature than he was wont to 
take ; how she called him away from a too exclusive regard for the 
sterner, more severe, and even terrible aspects of the physical 
world to an appreciation of those of a softer and more peaceful 
character; and this was no small service to a mind such as 
Wordsworth's. How much he was indebted to her for the refined 
and spiritual conception of Nature which characterizes his maturest 
views, and which lies at the basis of his conception of the world, 
it is impossible to say. That he was thus under obligation to her 
is manifest in his own generous acknowledgment : 

Child of my parents ! Sister of my soul ! 
Thanks in sincerest verse have been elsewhere 
Poured out for all the early tenderness 
Which I from thee imbibed : and 't is most true 
That later seasons owed to thee no less ; 

1 The Sparrow's Nest, 15-20. 



76 WORDSWORTH 

For, spite of thy sweet influence and the touch 

Of kindred hands that opened out the springs 

Of genial thought in childhood, and in spite 

Of all that unassisted I had marked 

In Ufe or nature of those charms minute 

That win their way into the heart by stealth, 

(Still to the very going-out of youth) 

I too exclusively esteemed that love, 

And sought that beauty, which, as Milton sings, 

Hath terror in it. Thou didst soften down 

This over-sternness ; but for thee, dear Friend ! 

My soul, too reckless of mild grace, had stood 

In her original self too confident, 

Retained too long a countenance severe ; 

A rock with torrents roaring, with the clouds 

Familiar, and a favourite of the stars : 

But thou didst plant its crevices with flowers. 

Hang it with shrubs that twinkle in the breeze. 

And teach the little birds to build their nests 

And warble in its chambers.^ 

Again, in that mental transition, when Nature, so long foremost 

in his affections and regard, finally yielded the supremacy to Man, 

Wordsworth acknowledges that it was his sister who, in a sense,- 

led the way. Her breath was a *' kind of gentler spring " that went 

before his steps, so that in his conception of and regard for Man 

we also find him indebted to her for a certain measure of help. 

He says : 

At a time 
When Nature, destined to remain so long 
Foremost in my affections, had fallen back 
Into a second place, pleased to become 
A handmaid to a nobler than herself. 
When every day brought with it some new sense 
Of exquisite regard for common things. 
And all the earth was budding with these gifts 
Of more refined humanity, thy breath. 
Dear Sister ! was a kind of gentler spring 
That went before my steps.^ 

1 The Prelude, XIV, 232-256. 2 ibid., XIV, 256-266. 



SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 77 

A student of the mental and spiritual development of a poet 
must, of course, take cognizance of the influence of particular indi- 
viduals as an important factor in his human or social environment, 
if he is to reckon with all the forces that were at work with his 
soul. There were a number of persons who exerted a marked influ- 
ence on Wordsworth ; among them his mother. Captain Beaupuy, 
William Godwin, his sister Dorothy, and Coleridge may be men- 
tioned. But of all these none affected his life in general, nor his 
poetic life in particular, as powerfully as Dorothy Wordsworth. 
And one of the greatest of all her valuable services to him was 
rendered at this particular time of his life when he was lost in the 
darkness of an apparently hopeless skepticism. She it was who, 
understanding him in some respects better than he understood him- 
self, called him away from the things " disturbing his peace" ; who 
maintained for him *' a saving intercourse" with his true self ; who, 
in the hour of deepest gloom, whispered that brightness would come 
again. And after he had wandered here and there, unsettled in 
mind and perturbed in spirit, incapable of forming any definite pur- 
pose as to what course in life to pursue, in danger of drifting into 
■some vocation where his poetic powers might be lost to him and 
therefore to the world, it was she who preserved him ''still a poet " 
and made him ''seek beneath that name, and that alone," his 
"office upon earth." She knew his powers. She saw the poet in 
him. She saw also that the poet's world must be his world, and 
it was her influence that largely compelled him to live in it. 
Henceforth she became a greater power in his life than ever — 
almost living for him — so constant and unselfish was her devo- 
tion. "Properly, and in a spirit of prophecy," says De Quincey, 
"was she named Dorothy ; for, as that name apparently predestines 
her who bears it to figure rather in the character of aunt than of 
mother (insomuch that I have rarely happened to hear this name, 
except, indeed, in Germany, without the prefix of aunt ), so, also, 
in its Greek meaning, gift of God^ well did this name prefigure 
the relation in which she stood to Wordsworth, the mission with 



78 WORDSWORTH 

which she was charged — to wait upon him as the tenderest and 
most faithful of domestics ; to love him as a sister ; to sympathize 
with him as a confidante, to counsel him as one gifted with a power 
of judging that stretched as far as his own for producing; to 
cheer him and sustain him by the natural expression of her feel- 
ings — so quick, so ardent, so unaffected — upon the probable effect 
of whatever thoughts, plans, images he might conceive ; finally, 
and above all other ministrations, to ingraft, by her sexual sense 
of beauty, upon his masculine austerity that delicacy and those 
graces, which else (according to the grateful acknowledgement of 
his own maturest retrospect) it would not have had." ^ All her 
fine qualities of mind and heart were placed at his service, and 
thus much of his art was made possible.^ 

Some of Wordsworth's biographers, while admitting the invalu- 
able service rendered to Wordsworth by his sister, call attention 
also to unfortunate results of her influence both on him personally 
and on his poetry. It is said that her keen and superabundant 
sensibility, uncontrolled by the higher mental powers, made her 
and, through her, him also too susceptible to the ordinary in life 
and Nature. It led to an exaggeration of the value of the common- 
place, and to a marked indifference at times to the things of larger 
and more vital import. It may be true that such devotion as 
Dorothy gave to her brother was not an unmixed blessing. It may 
have been fraught with a kind of hurtful influence to his poetry as 
well as to his character. She may have been responsible, in a meas- 
ure, for his selection of ordinary subjects and themes. This ten- 
dency, which was to a certain extent characteristic of Wordsworth 
himself, was possibly encouraged by her. But were the larger hori- 
zons of thought and the themes of vaster moment ever really in 
danger ? Is the large number of small poems written by him con- 
clusive evidence of this } It is true that Wordsworth sometimes 

1 De Quincey, Literary Reminiscences, 364-365, New York, 1878. 

2 Cf. Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, edited by William Knight, London and 
New York, 1904. 



SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 79 

clothes ordinary subjects with an exaggerated interest, and treats 
them with unusual emotion. But even though Dorothy may be 
responsible in a measure for this, still both he and the world are 
under lasting obligations to her for the inestimable service rendered 
in the crisis of his life, which was so full of import concerning 
his future ; also for the service rendered through long years of 
faithful devotion, in which she ministered to his bodily, mental, 
and spiritual needs. 

It was fortunate that in the midst of this moral crisis the ap- 
parently aimless wanderings of Wordsworth were to come to an 
end — that he was to settle down to the comforts of a home, and to 
some definite work, both of which are powerful forces in unifying 
and steadying man's life. For many years he had been without a 
home, which added to his discontent and certainly was not con- 
ducive to productive eifort. But now the dream, of his sister and 
himself was about to be realized ; they were to live together under 
the same roof. They began their new home life at Racedown in 
the autumn of 1795. From a letter written by Dorothy to Mrs. 
Marshall, shortly after they had settled there, we learn something 
of their physical environment, which here, as in their early home, 
was to have its influence on Wordsworth. She says : *' We walk 
about two hours every morning. We have very pleasant walks about 
us ; and what is a great advantage, the roads are of a sandy kind, 
and are almost always dry. We can see the sea, one hundred fifty 
or two hundred yards from the door ; and at a little distance we 
have a very extensive view terminated by the sea, seen through 
different openings of the unequal hills. We have not the warmth 
and luxuriance of Devonshire, though there is no want either of 
wood, or of cultivation ; but the trees appear to suffer from the 
sea-blasts. We have hills which, seen from a distance, almost take 
the character of mountains, some cultivated nearly to their summits ; 
others in their wild state, covered with furze and broom. These 
delight me most, as they remind me of our native wilds." ^ Again, 
1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 108. 



8o WORDSWORTH 

writing to another friend, she speaks of the " lovely meadows above 
the tops of the combs, and the scenery on Pilsden, Lewisden, and 
Blackdown-hill, and the view of the sea from Lambert's Castle." ^ 

Wordsworth spent much of his time reading, writing, walking, 
and gardening. He was, according to his sister, very dexterous with 
the spade. He soon resumed his poetical work. He began to ex- 
periment with satire, adapting or paraphrasing certain parts of 
Juvenal, which he sent to his friend Wrangham. He and his friend 
contemplated publishing jointly a volume of satirical poems. In 
his productions Wordsworth satirized prevailing abuses, govern- 
mental vices, and corruptions of high society, revealing thus his 
continued interest in Man. Later, however, he came to the wise 
conclusion that this was not his work.^ 

It is to be regretted that at this time he did not exclude trag- 
edy also from his poetical attempts. It too proved to be a kind 
of composition for which his gifts did not qualify him. This was 
soon to be made manifest in a tragedy entitled '' The Borderers,'* 
which was begun by him in 1795 and completed in 1796. It has 
very little merit as a dramatic poem, but is of interest from a bio- 
graphical point of view. Though rejected as a drama by the critics — 
by some of them almost in a spirit of contempt — to the student of 
Wordsworth's mental unfolding it is an important composition. It 
reveals the Poet, far removed from the ferment of society, under the 
beneficent influences of a quiet life with his faithful sister and an 
intimate association with Nature, subjecting the life of reason, which 
had brought him only moral disaster, to a careful scrutiny. Critics 
of *' The Borderers " often fail to apprehend its real significance. 
They do not consider it sufficiently in the light of the terrible 
political events which immediately preceded its composition, and 
of the philosophy which had more or less tried to justify them, 
and of Wordsworth's relation to both. 

In the philosophical bearing of the drama we may note the power- 
ful influence of Godwin's philosophy. It seems to be the Poet's 
1 Dorothy V^ordsworth, Memoirs, I, 94. ^ Ibid., I, 95-96. 



SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 8 1 

aim to reveal, in Oswald's character, conduct, and influence, the 
consequences of Godwinian principles when applied to Ufe. The 
attainment of a spiritual freedom that flouts the '' tyranny " of 
human opinion, custom, and law leads Oswald to be grateful to 
men who led him to commit the heinous crime of murder. Then, 
prompted by ambition and a desire for companionship in this lone 
freedom, he induces a noble man to commit a similar crime. He 
induces him to murder the father of the girl he loved by raising 
false suspicions concerning his honor and his daughter's purity, 
justifying the murder in the name of an exalted liberty. The out- 
come of running counter to established opinion and law, and fol- 
lowing simply the guidance of unfettered individual nature, acting 
in the light of circumstances, is seen in the melancholy end of 
poor Marmaduke, the man whom Oswald thus betrayed. In him 
Oswald's philosophical faith is productive of fearful results, and 
issues in despair and moral ruin. It is evident that Wordsworth 
is pointing out the practical consequences of Godwin's political 
creed, with its naked individualism, and it is quite probable that 
the Poet is trying in this tragedy, as Legouis suggests, to purge 
himself of his own skepticism, for which this superficial but dan- 
gerous philosophy was in a large measure responsible. 

In the case of earnest men moral skepticism is usually short- 
lived. They do not wander forever bewildered and distracted in 
the gloom of the skeptic's night. Sooner or later the darkened 
spirit sees the morning dawn. The normal attitude of the soul is 
not doubt, but belief; not denial, but affirmation. There is no 
"everlasting nay" for a healthy spirit. However confused and 
confounded by circumstances — by disappointed hopes, wrecked 
ambitions, the failure of ideals — however bewildered by the con- 
trarieties and apparent antinomies of reason, ultimately, under 
wholesome conditions, the soul, as a rule, finds its way back to faith. 
The great truths which condition its life and progress finally com- 
pel acceptance. Their rightful home is the human spirit, whose 
development they shape and control, and although inhospitable 



82 WORDSWORTH 

circumstances may occasionally drive them out, they return again 
to find ready welcome and permanent lodgment. So it proved with 
Wordsworth. 

Here in Racedown, under most favorable conditions, the mental 
situation was gradually changing. What was gone was slowly re- 
turning. Far from the noisy and fretful life of the world remedial 
agencies were at work to restore his soul. The faithful ministries 
of a devoted sister, the daily intercourse with Nature in peaceful 
haunts, the lessons he had learned from her in years gone by, 
his conversation with men of humble spirit and open manners, 
the silent communion with wholesome books, the restoring power 
of definite and daily occupation, the hours of meditation and calm 
reflection, remote from the mad course of political events — these 
were the forces at work to restore Wordsworth to his normal self. 
It is impossible, of course, to determine definitely just when a full 
recovery was effected. As in the case of bodily disease, it was 
gradual. However, it is safe to say that, by the time he and his 
sister left Racedown to take up their abode in Alfoxden, Words- 
worth was mentally and spiritually in the advanced stages of con- 
valescence. How complete the restoration was when it did come is 
indicated in the thirteenth book of "The Prelude." The Poet's 
account of the marvelous change that took place is both interesting 
and instructive, revealing as it does Wordsworth's conception of 
Nature's part in the work of his recovery. She did not desert the 
heart that loved her. She calmed him, and gently led him back to 
the recognition of great truths, and forward to the acceptance of 
others, concerning both herself and Man. '' Long time," he says, 

"in search of knowledge did I range 
The field of human life, in heart and mind 
^ Benighted ; but, the dawn beginning now 
To re-appear, 't was proved that not in vain 
I had been taught to reverence a Power 
That is the visible quality and shape 
And image of right reason ; that matures 
Her processes by steadfast laws ; gives birth 



SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 83 

To no impatient or fallacious hopes, 

No heat of passion or excessive zeal, 

No vain conceits ; provokes to no quick turns 

Of self-applauding intellect ; but trains 

To meekness, and exalts by humble faith ; 

Holds up before the mind intoxicate 

With present objects, and the busy dance 

Of things that pass away, a temperate show 

Of objects that endure ; and by this course 

Disposes her, when over-fondly set 

On throwing off incumbrances, to seek 

In man, and in the frame of social life, 

Whate'er there is desirable and good 

Of kindred permanence, unchanged in form 

And function, or, through strict vicissitude 

Of life and death, revolving." ^ 

'^ Above all," he adds, 

" Were re-established now those watchful thoughts 

Which, seeing little worthy or sublime 

In what the Historian's pen so much delights 

To blazon — power and energy detached 

From moral purpose — early tutored me 

To look with feelings of fraternal love 

Upon the unassuming things that hold 

A silent station in this beauteous world." ^ 

One of the most interesting features of his recovery is the re- 
establishment, by degrees, under the guidance of Nature, of his faith 
in Man. He begins to study him not as an abstract creature — 
a mere mental creation — but as a real being clothed in flesh and 
blood. Having gained more judicious views of the worth of indi- 
vidual man, he inquires with more interest than heretofore why we 
find this glorious creature in such small numbers — *'one in ten 
thousand." Why may not millions be what one is ? If the obstruc- 
tions of animal appetites and daily wants be not insuperable, then 
all others vanish. So he exhorts himself : 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 16-39. * Ibid., 39-47. 



84 WORDSWORTH 

" Inspect the basis of the social pile : 
Enquire . . . how much of mental power 
And genuine virtue they possess who live 
By bodily toil, labour exceeding far 
Their due proportion, under all the weight 
Of that injustice which upon ourselves 
Ourselves entail." ^ 

He turned to men as he found them in his daily walks — humble, 
unassuming, simple folk. He loved to 

Converse with men, where if we meet a face 
We almost meet a friend, on naked heaths 
With long long ways before, by cottage bench. 
Or well-spring where the weary traveller rests.^ 

He began to talk with strangers whom he met in his wanderings, 
and to learn of them important lessons. His intercourse with these 
lowly people began in Racedown, and was continued in Alfoxden. 
It proved to be a revelation to him. He was both astonished and 
gratified at the amount of native intelligence and virtuous senti- 
ment his conversations with such men revealed, and it brought 
peace and steadiness, healing and repose, to his ruffled passions. 
These men were a direct contradiction of his Godwinian philosophy, 
which maintained that virtue belonged to the wise, and vice was 
the offspring of ignorance. Godwin taught that we owe everything 
to education. Here Wordsworth feels how little we are indebted, at 
least to formal education — how little it has to do with genuine 
feeling and just sentiment.^ The outcome of all this subsequently 
had a most vital bearing on his poetry, for he was led to a firm 
determination to make Man the chief subject of his song. Further- 
more, he would sing of Man not as judged by externals, but as he 
really is within himself. He would sing, too, of Man as found not 
in high places but in '' the walks of homely life," for it is here, 
according to Wordsworth, that we find the fundamentally human. 
He would deal with men in the simplicity of their being, and in 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 94-100. 2 ibid., 138-141. ^ ibid., 168-185. 



SPIRITUAL CONVALESCENCE 85 

simple everyday circumstances and situations, and in the ordinary 

language of men instead of in a diction foreign to common life and 

belonging to a particular class of men whom we call poets. This 

determination is the key to much of his poetry. 

In this gradual recovery of Wordsworth his former convictions 

concerning Nature were also strengthened. He was convinced 

that she 

for all conditions wants not power 
To consecrate, if we have eyes to see, 
The outside of her creatures, and to breathe 
Grandeur upon the very humblest face 
Of human life.^ 

He began to see an intimate relation existing between the works 
of Nature and those of Man ; to note that the passion which ani- 
mates Nature's various forms intermingles with the work of Man 
to which she calls him. Again, he is convinced that the poet stands 
side by side with the prophet *' in a mighty scheme of truth," each 
having his own peculiar gift, heaven-born, that enables him to per- 
ceive things never seen before. In other words, he is again con- 
scious of the powers of the poet, the source from which they 
spring, the obligations they entail upon the possessor, and cher- 
ishes a hope that, thus endowed, he may be able to produce an 
enduring work. 

Thus, gradually, a restoration to moral and spiritual health was 
taking place. Slowly faith and hope, and with them peace and 
joy, were returning. The soul of Nature and the soul of Man were 
again realities for him. The lost vision was beginning to dawn 
once more on the renewed spirit. He began, as of old, '' to see 
into the life of things," to be conscious of heaven-bom powers and 
sacred obligations. The process of recovery begun in Racedown 
was continued and completed at Alfoxden, where we shall soon 
find him standing again in Nature's presence, 

A sensitive being, a creative soul. 
1 The Prelude, XIII, 283-287. 



CHAPTER VI 

COLERIDGE. THE "LYRICAL BALLADS." POETRY 
RELATING TO MAN 

Wordsworth and his sister moved from Racedown to Alfoxden 
July 13, 1797. This was a fortunate change, and was productive 
of one of the most fruitful chapters in the Poet's history. It was 
here, under the healing influence of his natural surroundings and 
the society of congenial friends, that he progressed rapidly to a 
complete restoration of his mental and spiritual health. It was 
here, also, that his brief acquaintance with Coleridge ripened into 
a warm friendship to the mutual advantage of both — a friendship 
that was destined to leave a permanent impression upon their work 
and greatly to enrich the pages of English poetry. Here, too, 
the '' Lyrical Ballads " were written, inspired chiefly by what he 
learned from lowly folk, and by the beauty and charm with which 
Nature in the Quantock Hills greets the eye of sense and speaks 
to the spirit of man. 

Nature has invested Alfoxden with a cheerful beauty which did 
not fail to have a salutary effect upon Wordsworth. The ''Journals of 
Dorothy Wordsworth " abound in descriptions of the scenery. On 
her first visit she writes : '' There is everything there, sea, woods wild 
as fancy ever painted, brooks clear and pebbly as in Cumberland, 
villages so romantic ; and William and I, in a wander by ourselves, 
found out a sequestered waterfall in a dell formed by steep hills 
covered with full-grown timber-trees. The woods are as fine as 
those at Lowther, and the country more romantic ; it has the char- 
acter of the less grand parts of the neighborhood of the lakes. "^ 
Again, in a letter bearing the date of August 14, 1797, she writes : 

1 Dorothy Wordsworth, Memoirs, I, 102. 
86 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN 87 

"Wherever we turn we have woods, smooth downs, and valleys 
with small brooks running down them, through green meadows, 
hardly ever intersected with hedgerows, but scattered over with 
trees. The hills that cradle these valleys are either covered with 
fern and bilberries, or oak woods, which are cut for charcoal. . . . 
Walks extend for miles over the hill-tops; the great beauty of 
which is their wild simplicity : they are perfectly smooth, with- 
out rocks. 

'' The Tor of Glastonbury is before our eyes during more than 
half of our walk to Stowey; and in the park wherever we go, 
keeping about fifteen yards above the house, it makes a part of our 
prospect." ^ Dorothy's '' Journals " record numerous walks with her 
brother through this beautiful country, which daily ministered to 
his convalescing mind and gradually brought to it peace and joy. 
Child of Nature that he was, Wordsworth was very susceptible to 
her healing power. That he was alive to the rare beauty and 
charm of his new surroundings will be evident when we come to 
consider the nature of his work as we find it manifest in the 
"Lyrical Ballads." 

According to Miss Wordsworth the primary motive for leaving 
Racedown to settle here was a desire to have the society of Cole- 
ridge. On first thought it seems rather singular that two men so 
unlike in many respects should become intimate friends and prove 
to be so mutually helpful. However, there were affinities which 
drew these two men together and made each a power in the other's 
life. In the first place, both were in sympathy with the political 
movements of the time in behalf of a larger liberty for Man, and 
against the artificial and tyrannical class distinctions and privileges 
which then obtained. They were in sympathy with the fundamental 
principles which underlay the French Revolution, and more or 
less out of harmony with the governmental policy of their own 
country at this early period in their career. In other words, both 
were decidedly republican in their political views. This probably 
1 Dorothy Wordsworth, Memoirs, I, 103-104. 



88 WORDSWORTH 

constituted a bond of sympathy, although Wordsworth refused to 
engage in political discussion with his friends at Alfoxden. 

In the next place, both were poets. Coleridge had read Words- 
worth's '* Descriptive Sketches" while at Cambridge, and was 
greatly pleased with the work. He saw in it the promise of a great 
poet. Later he met him at Bristol, and again at Racedown. He was 
not disappointed when, at the latter place, he heard him read '' The 
Ruined Cottage " and ** The Borderers," for at this time he wrote to 
Cottle, '' I speak with heartfelt sincerity, and, I think, unblinded judg- 
ment, when I tell you that I feel myself a little man by his side." 

Furthermore, far apart as they were in some respects because of 
temperamental differences, and in the peculiarities of their genius, 
nevertheless there was a similarity in their regard for and appre- 
ciation of Nature. The poetic sympathy that Coleridge felt and 
manifested for Wordsworth and his work, and his poetic way of 
apprehending Nature, which was so in harmony with Wordsworth's 
mental attitude, proved to be a source of encouragement and 
inspiration, and was responsible for much of Wordsworth's mental 
and spiritual progress as well as the progress of his art. 

Again, another bond of affinity was a certain philosophical predis- 
position of mind. Much as Wordsworth was inclined at times to 
deal with small and commonplace themes, he had, nevertheless, 
the larger mental horizon which is characteristic of the philosopher. 
While living at Racedown and Alfoxden he planned an elaborate 
philosophical poem, "The Recluse," which should have as its 
subject " Man, Nature, and Society." This was probably the out- 
growth of his experience with the French Revolution, and of his 
reflective tendencies, stimulated by his conversations with Cole- 
ridge. His mental life, in its philosophical moods, was affected to 
a considerable degree by Coleridge, whose mind, on the whole, was 
more speculatively disposed than Wordsworth's, and whose abilities 
in reflective thinking were certainly greater than those of his 
friend. That Wordsworth was conscious of his indebtedness in 
this respect is manifest in the Preface to ''The Excursion," where 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN 89 

he states, in explaining the original plan of his philosophical poem, 
that his intellect was greatly indebted ''to a dear friend, most dis- 
tinguished for his knowledge and genius." It is also manifest in 
his tribute to him, to be found in Book XIV of " The Prelude," 
where he points out, more or less specifically, the nature of this 
obligation : 

With such a theme, 

Coleridge ! with this my argument, of thee 

Shall I be silent ? O capacious Soul ! 

Placed on this earth to love and understand. 

And from thy presence shed the light of love, 

Shall I be mute, ere thou be spoken of ? 

Thy kindred influence to my heart of hearts 

Did also find its way. Thus fear relaxed 

Her overweening grasp ; thus thoughts and things 

In the self-haunting spirit learned to take 

More rational proportions ; mystery. 

The incumbent mystery of sense and soul, 

Of life and death, time and eternity, 

Admitted more habitually a mild 

Interposition — a serene delight 

In closelier gathering cares, such as become 

A human creature, howsoe'er endowed, 

Poet, or destined for a humbler name ; 

And so the deep enthusiastic joy, 

The rapture of the hallelujah sent 

From all that breathes and is, was chastened, stemmed 

And balanced by pathetic truth, by trust 

In hopeful reason, leaning on the stay 

Of Providence ; and in reverence for duty, 

Here, if need be, struggling with storms, and there 

Strewing in peace life's humblest ground with herbs, 

At every season green, sweet at all hours.^ 

It was probably in his reflective thinking, and in the rational 
interpretation of things and life, more than in any other way, that 
Coleridge influenced our Poet. Coleridge's large way of looking at 
things, the comprehensive sweep of his vision and thought, had 

1 The Prelude, XIV, 275-301. 



90 WORDSWORTH 

a tendency not only to wean Wordsworth away from what too often 
seemed to be mere pettiness of theme and an exaggerated interest 
in the commonplace, but also to arouse him to a consideration of 
the larger and deeper problems of human life and thought. 
/' Furthermore, there was a tendency toward mysticism in Cole- 
ridge's poetical functioning, as well as in his philosophizing, which 
of course made his thinking especially congenial to Wordsworth. 
In his reflection he was early influenced by Neoplatonism. His 
translation of the hymns of Synesius, his fondness for Taylor's 
translations of Plato and Plotinus, his poems entitled **Time, 
Real and Imaginary: An Allegory," ''Monody on the Death of 
Chatterton," '' Religious Musings," "The ^olian Harp," and the 
" Destiny of Nations," all indicate a mystical and more or less 
pantheistic trend. Later he reveals the influence of the mystical 
and pantheistic German philosopher Jakob Bohme. He even 
manifested a sympathy with the Quakerism of Fox. Still later 
the influence of Schelling's transcendental philosophy, with its 
idealistic pantheism, is quite marked. Now Wordsworth himself 
was a mystic of a pronounced type, and minds of this order must 
of necessity have proved congenial and mutually helpful. Certain 
it is that Coleridge did materially influence Wordsworth, and not 
the least part of the influence exerted by him was due to his philo- 
sophical mind, with its large perspective, its mystical vision, and its 
spiritual interpretation of Reality. 

The volume of '' Lyrical Ballads" was composed in Alfoxden. 
Wordsworth's account of its origin is given in a note preceding 
the poem entitled ''We are Seven." Here we are told that he, 
Dorothy, and Coleridge decided to visit Linton and the Valley 
of Stones. Their funds were somewhat limited, so Wordsworth 
and Coleridge agreed to write a poem, to be sent to the New 
Monthly Magazine, to defray the expense of the trip. "The 
Ancient Mariner " was planned as they journeyed along the 
Quantock Hills. Wordsworth's contribution to it was small. He 
found that Coleridge and he differed so much in their " respective 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN 9 1 

manners " that he withdrew from the project. But later they re- 
solved to publish jointly a volume of verse. The *' Lyrical Ballads" 
was the result. 

As to the nature of this volume, it was agreed that it should 
consist '' of Poems chiefly on natural subjects taken from common 
life, but looked at, as much as might be, through an imaginative 
medium." ^ Wordsworth's contribution to the volume was far 
greater in quantity than that of Coleridge. This is not a matter 
of surprise, as he was a man more steady in his moods and more 
industrious in his habits than his friend. 

We are here interested simply in Wordsworth's contribution. 
The poems written at Alfoxden are characteristic. They deal 
with Man, Nature, and Man's relation to Nature. He illustrates 
his own conception of poetry as *' the image of Man and Nature." 
Sometimes he is primarily engaged with Man, dealing with him 
in his essential being, exploiting his general passions, and de- 
scribing him in his fundamental relations to life. Then again 
he is more especially engaged with Nature, investing her with 
conscious spirit, seeing into the life of things, positing or intuit- 
ing a relation between her and Man, and attributing to her the 
functions of a ministering agent and teacher to the human soul. 

A definite purpose lies at the foundations of the *' Lyrical 
Ballads," and an interesting history behind them, with both of 
which one must be acquainted if one would properly understand 
them. Two sources especially throw light on Wordsworth's object 
in writing poetry of this character. One is the Preface to the 
second volume of the '' Lyrical Ballads, with Other Poems," pub- 
lished in the year 1800, and the additions made in the edition 
of 1802.2 jj^is is an explanation and defense of his poetry. The 
other is Book XIII of '' The Prelude," in which we find the 

^ Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, I, 230 n., London and New York, 
1896. 

2 Cf. Prose Works, edited by William Knight, I, 45-82, London and New 
York, 1896. 



92 



WORDSWORTH 



personal history leading up to the composition of the Ballads. 
In the Preface he says concerning his purpose : '' The principal 
object, then, proposed in these Poems was to choose incidents 
and situations from common life, and to relate or describe them, 
throughout, as far as was possible, in a selection of language really 
used by men, and, at the same time, to throw over them a certain 
colouring of imagination, whereby ordinary things should be pre- 
sented to the mind in an unusual aspect ; and, further, and above 
all, to make these incidents and situations interesting by tracing 
in them, truly though not ostentatiously, the primary laws of our 
nature : chiefly as far as regards the manner in which we associate 
ideas in a state of excitement. Humble and rustic life was generally 
chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the 
heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, 
are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic 
language ; because in that condition of life our elementary feelings 
co-exist in a state of greater simplicity, and, consequently, may be 
more accurately contemplated, and more forcibly communicated ; 
because the manners of rural life germinate from those elemen- 
tary feelings ; and, from the necessary character of rural occu- 
pations, are more easily comprehended, and are more durable; 
and lastly, because in that condition the passions of men are 
incorporated with the beautiful and permanent forms of nature. 
The language, too, of these men is adopted (purified indeed 
from what appear to be its real defects, from all lasting and 
rational causes of dislike or disgust) because such men hourly 
communicate with the best objects from which the best part of 
language is originally derived ; and, because, from their rank in 
society and the sameness and narrow circle of their intercourse, 
being less under the influence of social vanity, they convey their 
feelings and notions in simple and unelaborated expressions. Ac- 
cordingly, such a language, arising out of repeated experience and 
regular feelings, is a more permanent and a far more philosophical 
language than that which is frequently substituted for it by Poets, 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN 93 

who think that they are conferring honour upon themselves and 
their art, in proportion as they separate themselves from the 
sympathies of men, and indulge in arbitrary and capricious habits 
of expression, in order to furnish food for fickle tastes, and fickle 
appetites, of their own creation." ^ 

We see in these words that Wordsworth wrote the " Lyrical 
Ballads " with a specific object in view, and also what that object 
was. A little later in the Preface he states, in a somewhat different 
way, the nature of his purpose ^nd how it is illustrated in par- 
ticular poems. He aims '' to follow the fluxes and refluxes of the 
mind when agitated by the great and simple affections of our 
nature. This object I have endeavoured in these short essays to 
attain by various means ; by tracing the maternal passion through 
many of its more subtle windings, as in the Poems of 'The 
Idiot Boy ' and ' The Mad Mother ' ; ^ by accompanying the last 
struggles of a human being, at the approach of death, cleaving 
in solitude to life and society, as in the Poem of 'The Forsaken 
Indian'; by showing, as in the stanzas entitled 'We are Seven,' 
the perplexity and obscurity which in childhood attend our notion 
of death, or rather our utter inability to admit that notion ; or by 
displaying the strength of fraternal, or to speak more philosophi- 
cally, of moral attachment when early associated with the great and 
beautiful objects of nature, as in ' The Brothers ' ; or, as in the 
incident of Simon Lee, by placing my reader in the way of receiv- 
ing from ordinary moral sensations another and more salutary 
impression than we are accustomed to receive from them. It 
has also been part of my general purpose to attempt to sketch 
characters under the influence of less impassioned feelings, as 
in 'The Two April Mornings,' 'The Fountain,' 'The Old Man 
Travelling,' 'The Two Thieves,' etc., characters of which the 
elements are simple, belonging rather to nature than to manners, 

^ Prose Works, I, 48-49. 

2 In the editions of 1836-1843 "Wordsworth added the words : "And the one 
beginning ' Her eyes are wild,' etc." 



94 WORDSWORTH 

such as exist now, and will probably always exist, and which from 
their constitution may be distinctly and profitably contemplated.'*^ 

Now if we turn to Book XIII of "The Prelude," we find 
information that throws further light on the " Lyrical Ballads," 
especially on the history back of them. Here the Poet emphasizes 
more particularly the ethical motive which lies at the basis of his 
art. We learn how and why he was led to sing of Man free from 
the corrupting influences of social artifice and conventionality — 
to sing of him treading lowly paths and shadowing forth our 
common life. This has already been remarked upon in the last 
chapter, but it requires further amplification if we are fully to 
understand the mental and spiritual history which constitutes the 
background of the ** Lyrical Ballads," and of which they are so 
largely the product and expression. This will not only enable us 
more fully to appreciate Wordsworth's purpose and the rationale 
thereof, but also his firm conviction concerning both, which en- 
abled him to remain apparently undisturbed in the midst of sharp 
and merciless criticism and the solicitude which it occasioned 
among his friends. 

In the twelfth book of '' The Prelude " Wordsworth tells of the 
impairment of his imagination and taste caused by his experience 
with the French Revolution, and by his philosophizing on the 
nature of Man; also of their restoration. Book XIII continues 
the same story. Here, however, he dwells more particularly on 
their restoration. In his search for knowledge he had ranged for 
a long time '* the field of human life, in heart and mind be- 
nighted," but as the dawn began to reappear, he 

found 
Once more in Man an object of delight, 
Of pure imagination, and of love.^ 

And as his mental horizon widened, he again began to study, 
his knowledge increasing accordingly, and his confidence in f eelmgs 

1 Prose Works, I, 50-51. 2 The Prelude, XIII, 48-50. 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN 95 

that had stood the test of severe trial becoming firmer. His moral 
vision grew clearer. The promise of his time took on truer propor- 
tions. He found less pleasure in hopeful schemes and ambitious 
projects, and sought rather 

For present good in life's familiar face, 

And built thereon my hopes of good to come.^ 

He turned away from the sources to which he had looked for 
knowledge concerning Man, to other sources — to modest paths 
and lonely roads — seeking them enriched with everything he 
prized, *' with human kindness and simple joys." It was in the 
lowly, simple-hearted folk whom he met here that he found the 
elements of our constitution in their naturalness. In minds largely 
untutored by the formal methods of education, but developed by 
intercourse with Nature and simple life, he found what he deemed 
to be the universal passions, and heard words expressive of noblest 
sentiment and truth. All this filled him with hope and peace. 
His faith in Man returned, and he saw in his fundamental nature 
much that promised good and fair. 

But more than this. So impressed was he with the essential 
nature of the being in whom he had but a short time before lost 
faith, and concerning whose destiny he had lost all hope, that it 
stirred his soul to resolution. He determined to make him the 
subject of his art. He resolved to sing, and the theme of his 
song should be 

No other than the very heart of man, 

As found among the best of those who live.^ 

This resolution was most pronounced in its effect on Wordsworth's 
poetry. He became the poet of Man as well as the poet of Nature. 
Indeed, it had its influence upon his most immediate work. This 
is evident in the " Lyrical Ballads." Many of the poems in- 
cluded in the first volume, and many, also, of the second edition 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 62-63. 2 ibid., 241-242. 



96 WORDSWORTH 

of two volumes, are in harmony with his resolve. In them he deals 
with human nature in its bare reality and spontaneity ; humble folk 
are the subjects of these simple songs, as is manifest in such 
poems as '*We are Seven," ''Simon Lee," "The Complaint of a 
Forsaken Indian Woman," '* The Last of the Flock," '' The Idiot 
Boy," "The Mad Mother," "The Two April Mornings," "The 
Fountain," and " The Brothers." 

There was another reason, closely related to those given above, 
why Wordsworth chose "humble and rustic life" as the theme 
of his song. He had by no means yielded the political con- 
victions which had been such an inspiring as well as disturb- 
ing factor in his previous life. He was still democratic in his 
political predilections and beliefs. He had still an antipathy for 
artificial political class distinctions which brought advantage to 
some at the expense of others. He deeply sympathized with the 
poorer classes of society in their toil, suffering, and poverty, much 
of which was due to social and political wrong, and it was in 
exaltation, honor, and defense of humanity, as it may be found in 
such as these, that he was determined to sing ; so that all through 
the " Lyrical Ballads " an intensely human note is struck, and the 
reasons for it must be taken into consideration in attempting any 
intelligent criticism. 

In these poems there is, of course, a departure from some of the 
traditions of poetry, and especially a reaction against the conven- 
tionalism of the eighteenth century. Such a course could not take 
place without serious protest. The poems became a veritable storm 
center; a harsh and unjust criticism followed their publication. 
Coleridge thought that the preface to the second volume, in which 
Wordsworth sets forth his aim and theory of poetry, was respon- 
sible for much of the later criticism. Wordsworth's contention that 
poetry differed in no respect from prose save in rime and meter 
was probably the chief source of offense. Colefidge and others, 
however, contend that Wordsworth, in the Ballads, wrote better 
than his theory. On the other hand, Professor Raleigh urges, 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN. 97 

with considerable plausibility and force, that his shortcomings are 
largely due to a failure to conform to it. As we are dealing prima- 
rily with the content of his poetry, it is not our province to enter 
upon this debated and debatable field. But much of the criticism 
relates to the very content itself. Fault is found with his selec- 
tion of commonplace subjects, ordinary persons, and simple experi- 
ences and situations. It was said, and is still said, that he degraded 
poetry by singing a common song of common persons and things, 
in common language. Poetry is art and it must not be thus vulgar- 
ized. The Muse must not be dragged into the mire. Peasants, 
vagrants, and humble folk generally, with their petty experiences, 
do not furnish a sufficiently suggestive and exalted theme for this 
divine art. Wordsworth sees too much in such people, with their 
obscure, lowly, and often abject life. 

Undoubtedly there is a measure of justice in this. Even the 
most ardent Wordsworthian hesitates to follow him at times with- 
out at least an inward protest. But we ought to try to under- 
stand him before uttering hasty criticism. Even a careful reading 
of his verse, without studying it in relation to the man himself 
and to the bitter but chastening and sanctifying experience which 
really gave birth to Wordsworth as the poet of Man, will never 
enable us to fully understand and appreciate the worth of these 
ballads. Wordsworth had an intense sympathy and a profound 
respect for men ''as they are men within themselves." With him 
human nature is a sacred thing. It is neither '' common " nor 
'' unclean." He who attempts to explore it treads upon holy ground. 
Both human affection and human suffering, as involved in the 
elemental human relations, have something of the divine in them. 
Now, as we have seen, it is Wordsworth's conviction that the first 
elements of Man may be best studied in just such people as these 
who constitute the subjects of these poems. Idealist that he is with 
reference to Man, Wordsworth is also an intense Realist. He 
desires to get at the facts regarding human nature. He feels that, 
by brushing aside all artificiality, conventionalism, and complexity, 



98 WORDSWORTH 

growing out of society as we find it in the more favored and cul- 
tured circles, this may be done ; that these feelings coexist in 
greater simplicity here than elsewhere, and the conduct of rural 
folk springs from them, and rural occupations render them more 
comprehensible and durable ; that among these people, more 
than elsewhere, we find these essential emotions incorporated " with 
the beautiful and permanent forms of nature." Wordsworth had 
learned this from his association with them. The lonely roads he 
paced were *' open schools " to him, in which he daily read, with 
keen delight, in words and looks, in sighs and tears, ''the passions 
of mankind." He saw depths of soul revealed in spirits '' that 
appeared to have no depth at all to careless eyes." Hence these 
became the subject of his poetry. His spiritual eye beheld what 
the eye of sense cannot see, and he became the interpreter of 
human nature, apprehending a strength, nobility, glory, and honor 
in human weakness, suffering, and endurance, and in human love 
and self-sacrifice. As De Vere says : '' He never goes out of his 
way to find some form of suffering unheard of before ; but in his 
hands ordinary things become extraordinary, because he sees in 
them, and teaches his readers to see, depths and heights not 
suspected. The affections he sings are not the mere instincts of 
temperament brightened by a gleam of fancy ; nor have they their 
root in caprice, self-will, or self-love. They are those nobly-simple 
affections out of which Nature has built up human society, and 
which lives in the light of duty." ^ 

But it is insisted that in these ballads there is too much sub- 
jectivity, or, to put it more baldly, too much egotism. The very 
theory which underlies them involves a reaction against universally 
accepted methods of poetry, and exalts the individual will and 
caprice of the poet.^ It discards objective sources of inspiration, 
and depends too much upon meditation and contemplation to 

^ De Vere, Essays Chiefly on Poetry, 112-113, New York. 
* See, for example, Courthope, The Liberal Men in English Literature, Lec- 
ture 3, London, 1885. 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN 99 

furnish the afflatus. It chooses its materials. There is a volitional 
reaction on its subject-matter rather than a natural, spontaneous 
reaction, as though poetry were the product of a mere exercise of 
will. The result is that, although Wordsworth in practice often is 
better than Wordsworth in theory, much of his poetry suffers from 
this arbitrariness — this personal interference with the natural 
processes and laws of poetic inspiration and composition. We find 
him substituting personal for universal experience, and, so far as 
this relates to the content of his poetry, we observe that he sees 
in common folk much that is uncommon, in ordinary peasants 
and vagrants much that is extraordinary, in everyday experiences 
something that is unique and unusual. In other words, in dealing 
with his subject-matter he sees what other minds fail to see, and 
affirm cannot be seen. It is merely a subjective or personal con- 
tribution to Reality on the part of the Poet. 

But here again, may we not be too hasty in our judgment.? 
Reality, even in its most ordinary and familiar forms, is not such 
a simple thing as it appears on the surface. A more careful con- 
templation of it usually leads to a change of view. The history of 
science and philosophy proves this. All knowledge is interpretation 
of Reality, and minds differ in their capacity to interpret. If this 
be true in regard to the so-called physical world, it is preeminently 
true concerning the world of human nature. The poet's genius 
may perceive what the ordinary mind, unaided, fails to perceive. 
This does not necessarily make his knowledge less impersonal, 
objective, or universal. Reality may correspond to the vision, and 
the poet may simply be the teacher or prophet leading us into fur- 
ther light, as does the genius in science and philosophy, or the 
prophet in religion. Undoubtedly Wordsworth went to extremes, 
both in the selection of subjects and in his use of language, and 
was sometimes betrayed into investing the commonplace with an 
exaggerated interest and significance. All this must be admitted. 
But every poet has his lapses and his extremes, and every poet 
has in a measure the defects of his virtues. Wordsworth is no 



lOO WORDSWORTH 

exception to the rule. Indeed, he conspicuously illustrates it in 
the '' Lyrical Ballads," as well as elsewhere. However, just criti- 
cism or evaluation will not magnify these at the expense of the 
real worth of the poet's work, and in the case of Wordsworth 
this certainly is not wanting. In regard to human nature there is 
a careful inquiry into the facts revealed by its essential life. His 
inquiry is anything but subjective and personal. Hazlitt is wide of 
the mark in his criticism when he says, '' Mr. Wordsworth is the 
last man to ' look abroad into universality.' " The " Lyrical Bal- 
lads," and the theory underlying them, are conspicuous evidence 
against any such interpretation of Wordsworth's genius. He did 
look beyond himself, both in imagination and in heart, when writing 
these simple lays. There is both a natural and an ethical universality 
to be found in them. He who endeavors to determine that which 
is elemental is dealing with the universal and the objective, and 
he who deals with the ideal in interpretation deals with something 
more than the personal. So if Wordsworth's treatment of human 
nature, in both its realistic and idealistic aspects, seems at times 
to be peculiar to himself — if he sees in men what others fail to 
see — may it not be because, through his genius, he is gifted with 
a superior vision and insight by which he sees into the life of Man 
as he sees into the life of things ? This, however, does not neces- 
sarily render the vision and interpretation merely subjective, or 
stamp the poet as an extreme egotist. Subjective, in a sense, they 
undoubtedly are, but they are also objective and universal in the 
highest degree, and point to the poet as the real interpreter and 
prophet of human nature. 

Furthermore, the intensely human note found in the '' Lyrical 
Ballads " confutes a somewhat general criticism that Wordsworth's 
poetry lacks passion. Such a criticism has force only as passion is 
identified with violent, sensuous, and oftentimes abnormal feeling, 
such as may be found in a poet, for example, like Byron. In this 
sense Wordsworth's poetry is not impassioned ; but there is a deeper, 
truer, nobler, passion than this, and his verse throbs with it — a 



POETRY RELATING TO MAN lOI 

passion not to be confounded with tempestuous feeling, mawkish 
sentimentalism, or uncontrolled emotion bom of personal grief or 
misfortune. There is the passion of a profound sympathy and love 
for humanity — a passion of fellow-feeling that causes the heart to 
beat in sympathy with human sorrow as well as with human joy. 
These ballads are saturated with feeling of this sort. Only one thus 
possessed could write ''The Thorn," ''Her Eyes are Wild," "Simon 
Lee," "The Complaint of a Forsaken Indian Woman," "The 
Last of the Flock," "The Idiot Boy," "The Old Cumberland 
Beggar," and, later, "The Two April Mornings," " The Fountain," 
"Ruth," "The Brothers," " Michael," and "The Affliction of Mar- 
garet ." Here the Poet's heart is close to the great heart of hu- 
manity, his imagination is warmed by a deep pathos and genuine 
passion, and he reveals himself to be a true poet of Man. 

Of human nature and human experience, then, as he thus found 
it in Racedown and Alfoxden, and read it with a poet's insight, the 
" Lyrical Ballads " are but the poetic expression. These simple 
lays are the actualization of the noble resolve formed after Man 
was revealed to him in lowly life. 

Of these, said I, shall be my song; of these, 

If future years mature me for the task, 

Will I record the praises, making verse 

Deal boldly with substantial things ; in truth 

And sanctity of passion, speak of thesQ, 

That justice may be done, obeisance pmd 

Where it is due : thus haply shall I teach, 

Inspire ; through unadulterated ears 

Pour rapture, tenderness, and hope, — my theme 

No other than the very heart of man, 

As found among the best of those who live — 

Not unexalted by religious faith, 

Nor uninformed by books, good books, though few — 

In Nature's presence : thence may I select 

Sorrow, that is not sorrow, but delight ; 

And miserable love, that is not pain 

To hear of, for the glory that redounds 

Therefrom to human kind, and what we are. 



I02 WORDSWORTH 

Be mine to follow with no timid step 
Where knowledge leads me : it shall be my pride 
That I have dared to tread this holy ground, 
Speaking no dream, but things oracular.^ 

Nihil humani a me alienum puto is preeminently Wordsworth's 
motto. It runs through the contents of these early volumes like a 
theme through a symphony. These simple songs, while they re- 
cord the joys of simple life, are also burdened with the heart's 
weight of suffering, with its griefs and sorrows, with its mysterious 
and unintelligible experience, as well as with the sublime strength 
and virtuous humanity which they reveal in humble folk ; and if 
poetry be **an image of Man and Nature," then, so far as the 
'' Lyrical Ballads " purport to be the image of Man, it does not 
appear, after conceding all of the Poet's shortcomings, that he 
degraded his art in dealing with human nature, but rather must it 
be said, in the words of a brother poet. 

He sang a lofty song of lowly weal and dole. 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 232-253. 



CHAPTER VII 

THE " LYRICAL BALLADS " (CONTINUED). NATURE AND HER 

RELATION TO MAN 

Wordsworth's contribution to the " Lyrical Ballads " reveals two 
classes of poems : one in which the Poet is chiefly concerned with 
Man ; the other in which he is primarily interested in Nature and 
in Nature's relation to Man. The first class has already been con- 
sidered. Let us now turn to the second. Here may be found 
poetry which is regarded as peculiarly Wordsworthian — poetry 
which, with that of a similar character, to be considered later, gives 
Wordsworth his peculiar historical significance as a poet of Nature. 
It is in poetry such as this that he manifests his remarkable power 
to '' see into the life of things." In these early poems '' the vision 
and the faculty divine " are already apparent. Indeed, if we may 
ascribe to Wordsworth a philosophy at all, the fundamentals of it 
may be found in this second class of poems contained in the 
" Lyrical Ballads." 

Proceeding in chronological order, there are four poems, all 
breathing the same spirit, belonging to the year 1798. The first 
of these is entitled '' Lines written in Early Spring." In a prefa- 
tory note Wordsworth says it was *' actually composed while I was 
sitting by the side of the brook that runs down from the Comb^ 
in which stands the village of Alford, through the grounds of Alfox- 
den. It was a chosen resort of mine. The brook ran down a sloping 
rock, so as to make a waterfall, considerable for that county ; and 
across the pool below had fallen a tree — an ash if I rightly remem- 
ber — from which rose perpendicularly, boughs in search of the 
light intercepted by the deep shade above. The boughs bore leaves 
of green, that for want of sunshine had faded into almost lily-white ; 

103 



I04 WORDSWORTH 

and from the underside of this natural sylvan bridge depended 
long and beautiful tresses of ivy, which waved gently in the breeze, 
that might, poetically speaking, be called the breath of the water- 
fall. This motion varied of course in proportion to the power of 
water in the brook." ^ This unique spot was a meeting place of 
Wordsworth, Coleridge, and their Alfoxden friends. Coleridge 
himself refers to it in a poem the first line of which reads, '' This 
lime-tree bower, my prison." Wordsworth now puts himself 
in touch with Nature, just as in earlier years. He seeks her 
for her own sake, and drinks deep draughts from her wells of 
inspiration. 

This early poem was undoubtedly inspired by his natural sur- 
roundings. In the very first verse expression is given to his 
intuition of the unity of Nature. He hears a thousand notes 
while sitting in this favorite grove, steeped in a peculiar mood — 
a mood in which pleasant thoughts give rise to sad thoughts. 
Yet Nature's voices are not discordant. The thousand notes are 
blended into a beautiful harmony. His mystical sense not only per- 
ceives individual, isolated sounds, but apprehends Nature's notes 
as a melodious whole. The sad thoughts suggested by pleasant 
thoughts were the outcome of the Poet's soul harking back to those 
conditions of Man which had previously thrown him into a state of 
moral despair. Some, too, were doubtless suggested by contemplat- 
ing present social and political conditions. This seems probable from 
the second verse, where, after pointing out the fact that Nature had 
linked his human soul to her fair works, he confesses much grief *'to 
think what man has made of man." The psychological law of sugges- 
tion by contrast is here in operation. Nature's '' thousand blended 
notes," causing pleasant thoughts, occasion grief also, because of the 
contrast suggested between the natural and the human world. 

As the poem progresses we are introduced to Wordsworth's 
poetic faith, which is at the same time his philosophic faith. He 
notes the periwinkle trailing its wreaths through primrose tufts, and 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, I, 268 n. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 105 

confesses to a belief that every flower is possessed of conscious 

life. It has the power of conscious enjoyment. 

And 't is my faith that every flower 
Enjoys the air it breathes.^ 

But it is not the flowers alone that are thus highly endowed. Birds 
also possess this capacity. Every motion of theirs seems to the 
Poet to be *' a thrill of pleasure." And even the budding twigs, as 
they spread their fan '' to catch the breezy air," make it impossible 
for Wordsworth to think otherwise than that they too have a capacity 
for enjoyment. Here are two aspects of his conception of Nature : 
First, the so-called vegetable world, usually supposed to be a world of 
unconscious life, is not merely a living world, but a conscious world, 
and therefore a world of mind, for all conscious life is mental life. 
In the second place, the conscious life of both the vegetable and 
the animal world seems to be a pleasure-consciousness. In these two 
realms, to be is to be joyous. With him, according to the Poet's 
own confession, these conceptions attain unto the dignity of a faith, 
and a faith which is of the nature of a revelation. This is in keep- 
ing with what he says about speaking no dream, but things oracular. 
Here the mysticism of the Poet is again manifest. Furthermore, 
it ought to be noted that here he does not apprehend Nature as 
imbedded in a spirit life, but rather conceives of things themselves 
as possessed of spirit. Every flower, for instance, is represented 
as enjoying the air it breathes, as though it had a soul of its own. 
The next poem is entitled *'To my Sister." It is inspired by 
"the first mild day of March," when each minute is "sweeter than 
before." The robin is singing in the tall larch by the Poet's door. 
There is " a blessing in the air " that yields a sense of joy to the 
bare trees and mountains, and to the green grass of the field. The 
Poet expresses a wish that his sister join him in a day of idleness 
in the woods. Not even a book shall divert their attention from 
natural objects. Nature is pulsating not only with life, but with the 
spirit of love also. Everywhere love abounds. It is an attribute of 

1 Lines written in Early Spring, 11 -12. 



/ 



Io6 WORDSWORTH 

Man, but is not confined to him alone. It pervades all Nature, and 
Man and Nature are knit together by this spiritual bond into a spirit- 
ual kingdom. On this mild March day the Poet feels it operative, 
not only among his fellows but also between them and Nature : 

Love, now a universal birth, 

From heart to heart is stealing. 

From earth to man, from man to earth.^ 

Futhermore, Nature is inspiring and illuminating. She exists in 
close relation to the human mind and heart, and Man may derive 
more from one moment's communion with her than from " years of 
toiling reason." She helps Man to moral resolution. She reveals 
moral laws, and inspires him to conform to them. Her spirit is a 
spirit of beneficence, in communion with which Man finds and 
frames the measure or ideal of his soul, and in harmony with 
which he endeavors to tune it. 

One moment now may give us more 
Than years of toiling reason : 
Our minds shall drink at every pore 
The spirit of the season. 

Some silent laws our hearts will make, 
Which they shall long obey : 
We for the year to come may take 
Our temper from to-day. 

And from the blessed power that rolls 
About, below, above. 
We '11 frame the measure of our souls : 
They shall be tuned to love.^ 

There is progress here in Wordsworth's conception of Nature 
beyond the position taken in the previous poem. The all-animating 
Spirit of Nature is a spirit of Love, which, in its relation to the 
spirit of Man, incites to moral resolution and endeavor, and fur- 
nishes the ethical standard or measure for the human soul. There 
is a moral order in the universe. Things and men are subject to 
1 To my Sister, 21-23. ^ Ibid., 25-36. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 107 

its universal sway. It *' rolls about, below, above." It holds the 
stars in their courses. It binds things together in a mighty system. 
The law of social interaction is the same as the law of corporeal 
things. The law governing Man's relation to things is the same as 
that governing the relation of things to things, and the relations of 
men to men. It is the law of love, which is the heart of the world, 
and Man's heart should beat in harmony with it. Once more 
Wordsworth conceives of all Nature as possessed of a unitary life, 
which life is that of an all-animating Soul. 

" Expostulation and Reply " is written in the same spirit as the 
poem just considered. In a prefatory note Wordsworth informs us 
that it was ''a favorite among the Quakers," doubtless because of 
the mysticism involved. The Poet represents his friend as re- 
monstrating with him for dreaming his time away, sitting on an 
old gray stone by Esthwaite Lake. He is urged to take to his books 
instead, and imbibe '' the spirit breathed from dead men to their 
kind." To this the Poet makes reply, in which he brings out again 
his belief in Nature as a source of inspiration and knowledge. The 
" mighty sum of things " has a voice which reaches the human 
mind and heart. Man must not always be seeking truth. There 
is a time for quiet meditation, and for communion with the Spirit 
of the Universe. The mind must be passive as well as active. 
It must be open to the subtle influences and powers with which it 
is in relation. Therefore let us occasionally dream away the hours, 
and feed our minds '' in a wise passiveness." Let us listen to the 
voice *' of things for ever speaking," and learn the lesson intended 
for the receptive soul. It is Wordsworth's familiar story of a spir- 
itualized Nature close to the spirit of Man, speaking a language 
which his heart and mind can understand, and bearing a message 
of wisdom and truth : 

" The eye — it cannot choose but see ; 
We cannot bid the ear be still ; 
Our bodies feel, where'er they be, 
Against or with our will. 



I08 WORDSWORTH 

" Nor less I deem that there are Powers 
Which of themselves our minds impress ; 
That we can feed this mind of ours 
In a wise passiveness. 

" Think you, 'mid all this mighty sum 
Of things for ever speaking, 
That nothing of itself will come. 
But we must still be seeking ? 

" — Then ask not wherefore, here, alone. 

Conversing as I may, 

I sit upon this old grey stone, 

And dream my time away." ^ 

Here, again, we meet with Wordsworth's indefiniteness concern- 
ing his real conception of Nature. We have a spiritualized world, 
but he does not represent all things as pervaded by one Spiritual 
Presence, but conceives of spiritual Powers which impress our 
minds, and of '' things for ever speaking." There is an inclination 
here to believe that things themselves possess conscious spirits. 

In similar vein is the poem ''The Tables Turned." Here 
Wordsworth brings out still more explicitly Nature's relation as a 
teacher of Man. The same friend is urged in turn to quit his 
books and to come forth *' into the light of things " and learn of 
Nature. Books are dull and full of endless strife. Nature, on the 
other hand, is full of inspiration and harmony. She is a teacher 
of truth and wisdom. There is not only music but wisdom in 
the linnet's song, and the throstle is no mean preacher. Indeed, 
Nature is full of resources. Hers is " a world of ready wealth " 
to bless the mind and heart of Man : 

Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, 
Truth breathed by cheerfulness.^ 

From her we may learn more concerning ourselves, more of things 
moral, than from the wisdom of the ages : • 

1 Expostulation and Reply, 17-32. 2 xjig Tables Turned, 19-20. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 109 

One impulse from a vernal wood 
May teach you more of man, 
Of moral evil and of good, 
Than all the sages can.^ 

Both science and art, as teachers, are inferior to her. Their leaves 
are barren ; their methods are fruitless, so far as introducing us 
to the real meaning of things is concerned. Science is destructive 
of beauty. She disfigures Nature. Analysis kills the soul of things. 
"We murder to dissect." The analytical method of approach to 
Nature is the method of the cold, logical intellect, which fails to 
yield the richest results. It furnishes an arid waste for the spirit's 
activity. We need the warm, sympathetic, watchful, receptive heart 
to get at Nature's secret meanings — to hear things tell the story 
of their spiritual significance for the soul : 

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings ; 
Our meddling intellect 

Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things : — 
We murder to dissect. 

Enough of Science and of Art ; 

Close up those barren leaves ; 

Come forth, and bring with you a heart • 

That watches and receives.^ 

The attitude toward Science manifest in this poem is similar to 
that taken later in ''A Poet's Epitaph." It does not mean that 
Wordsworth is really hostile to scientific investigation. What he 
desires is that men should not lose the soul of Nature in their 
mental attitude toward her. His poetic intuition of the unity of 
things is so pronounced that he is opposed to any method of ap- 
proach to the study of Nature by analysis that loses its way in mere 
manifoldness and variety of parts. For him Nature is so evidently 
grounded in a spiritual unity, her beauty and loveliness are so 
full of inspiration and meaning, that he does not want us to lose 
the important lessons of wisdom which she imparts. This poem, 

1 The Tables Turned, 21-24. ^ Ibid., 25-32. 



I lo WORDSWORTH 

contrary to the two immediately preceding, conceives of the spiritual 
unity of Nature. One Spirit animates things. 

Lord Morley, in his excellent Introduction,^ referring to this 
poem, says : '* It is best to be entirely sceptical as to the existence 
of system and ordered philosophy in Wordsworth. When he tells 
us that ' one impulse from a vernal wood may teach you more of 
man, of moral evil and of good, than all the sages can,' such a 
proposition cannot be seriously taken as more than a half-playful 
sally for the benefit of some too bookish friend. No impulse from 
a vernal wood can teach us anything at all of moral evil and of good. 
When he says that it is his faith, ' that every flower enjoys the air 
it breathes,' and that when the budding twigs spread out their fan 
to catch the air, he is compelled to think * that there was pleasure 
there,' he expresses a charming poetic fancy and no more, and it 
is idle to pretend to see in it the fountain of a system of philoso- 
phy." This is certainly a misapprehension of Wordsworth's mean- 
ing. There is, of course, not a formally developed system of 
philosophy to be found in the poetry of Wordsworth, but there 
are certain fundamental conceptions and beliefs which dominate 
his thought and faith, and these are embodied in the poems just 
considered. There cannot be even the shadow of reasonable doubt 
on this matter when we read these lyrics in connection with what 
has already been revealed on the subject by the history of the 
Poet as far as we have traced it, and in view of the evidence yet 
to be presented. In almost every book of ''The Prelude" this 
faith in a Spirit (sometimes spirits) of Nature sustaining a moral 
relationship to the spirit of Man is expressed. As we have seen, 
the Poet represents himself as having been guided from childhood, 
through youth, up to manhood, by this moral Spirit, receiving 
direction and wisdom from it. This is especially manifest in the 
account and interpretation of his Hawkshead experiences, which 
were considered in the second chapter. He conceives of the Spirit 
of Nature performing an important moral office in relation to him. 
^ The Complete Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, p. Ixv. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 1 1 1 

Her visitings that came to him with ** soft alarm," as well as her 
'* severer interventions," constituted, in his judgment, a ministry 
to which he owed the calm existence which was his when worthy 
of himself.^ He declares that the '' Wisdom and Spirit of the 
Universe " intertwines '' the passions that build up our human 
soul" by the power of high and enduring things. It purifies *'the 
elements of feeling and thought " and sanctifies pain and fear to 
our highest good.^ That Nature is a moral teacher, consciously 
imparting her lessons through fear and desire, through pain and 
pleasure, is a similar conclusion, to which he comes when he inter- 
prets another incident of his Hawkshead life.^ In Book II of 
**The Prelude" he acknowledges with ''grateful voice" his obli- 
gations to Nature for what he has learned of her, especially in 
things moral. Here, immediately after an interesting account of/ 
his unique communion with, and mystical intuition of, Nature, he 

adds : 

If this be error, and another faith 
Find easier access to the pious mind. 
Yet were I grossly destitute of all 
Those human sentiments that make this earth 
So dear, if I should fail with grateful voice 
To speak of you, ye mountains, and ye lakes 
And sounding cataracts, ye mists and winds 
That dwell among the hills where I was born. 
If in my youth I have been pure in heart, 
If, mingling with the world, I am content 
With my own modest pleasures, and have lived 
With God and Nature communing, removed 
From little enmities and low desires. 
The gift is yours ; if in these times of fear 
This melancholy waste of hopes o'erthrown, 
If, 'mid indifference and apathy. 
And wicked exultation when good men 
On every side fall off, we know not how, 
To selfishness, disguised in gentle names 
Of peace and quiet and domestic love, 
Yet mingled not unwillingly with sneers 

^ The Prelude, I, 340-355. ^ Ibid., 401-414. ^ ibid., 464-474. 



} 



112 WORDSWORTH 

On visionary minds ; if, in this time 
Of dereliction and dismay, I yet 
Despair not of our nature, but retain 
A more than Roman confidence, a faith 
That fails not, in all sorrow my support. 
The blessing of my life ; the gift is yours. 
Ye winds and sounding cataracts ! 't is yours, 
Ye mountains ! thine, O Nature ! Thou hast fed 
My lofty speculations ; and in thee, 
For this uneasy heart of ours, I find 
A never-failing principle of joy 
And purest passion.^ 

What more conclusive evidence can be demanded of Wordsworth's 
faith in Nature's moral ministry thap that which is presented here ? 
He acknowledges with gratitude the moral service she has rendered. 
He says that if in youth he has been pure in heart ; that if, con- 
tent to commune with God and Nature, he has been '' removed 
from little enmities and low desires " ; that if, in a time when men 
were deserting high ideals and falling into lives of selfishness, a 
time of dereliction and dismay, he preserved a sturdy faith in 
human nature, it was due to the ministry of the winds and sound- 
ing cataracts, and to the mountains — to Nature. She had not 
only fed his mind's lofty speculations, but at the time of his writ- 
ing he finds in her " a never-failing principle of joy and purest 
passion." What is the significance of such language if it does not 
mean that Nature is possessed of spirit and that she was a source 
of moral inspiration to Wordsworth, that she was a moral teacher 
and guide .? All of the offices performed by Nature, mentioned in 
the above quotation, are moral offices, and they are exercised for 
the benefit of his soul. This was Wordsworth's faith, and it is 
proclaimed over and over again in his poetry. 

Again, we have seen how, when a student at Cambridge, he 
conceived of Nature as endowed with life, and beheld her full of 
moral meaning. Is this not evident in the words : 

1 The Prelude, II, 419-451, 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 113 

To every natural form, rock, fruit, or fiower, 
Even the loose stones that cover the highway, 
I gave a moral life : I saw them feel, 
Or linked them to some feeling : the great mass 
Lay bedded in a quickening soul, and all 
That I beheld respired with inward meaning.^ 

Again, it will be recalled how, when he was still a student at 
Cambridge, during a summer vacation, the Spirit of Nature laid 
hold of him, and bond unknown to him was given that he should 
be a dedicated soul, else be guilty of sinful disobedience. It was 
from the Spirit of Nature that he learned at this time the impor- 
tant lesson of his life work, and learned it as a moral obligation .^ 
And so it was in London ; the Spirit of Nature was upon him there. 

The soul of Beauty and enduring Life 
Vouchsafed her inspiration.^ 

And here in the great metropolis he was gradually, under her 
direction, led to a love of Man. In his own judgment she was con- 
stantly rendering him a moral service. And after he had passed 
through the fires of the French Revolution, and through the mental 
anguish and spiritual darkness caused by his disappointment, we 
later find him turning back and reviewing these critical years, and 
acknowledging his great indebtedness to the sustaining power of 
Nature. In the course of this acknowledgment he proclaims her 
a moral teacher. He speaks of the 

breezes and soft airs, 
Whose subtle intercourse with breathing flowers, 
Feelingly watched, might teach Man's haughty race 
How without injury to take, to give 
Without offence.* 

Furthermore, in contrasting his attitude toward Nature, after his 
mind had fallen a prey to the spirit of speculation and rational 
criticism, with his attitude toward her in early youth, in an 

1 The Prelude, III, 122-143. ^ Ibid., VII, 766-767. 

2 Ibid., IV, 306-338. * Ibid., XII, 10-14. 



114 WORDSWORTH 

apostrophe he addresses the Spirit of Nature both as a rejoicing 
spirit and as a teacher of the mind and heart : 

O Soul of Nature ! excellent and fair ! 
That didst rejoice with me, with whom I, too, 
Rejoiced through early youth, before the winds 
And roaring waters, and in lights and shades 
That marched and countermarched about the hills 
In glorious apparition. Powers on whom 
I daily waited, now all eye and now 
All ear ; but never long without the heart 
Employed, and man's unfolding intellect.^ 

And what more positive testimony could we have of Wordsworth's 
faith in Nature as invested with Spirit, and of that Spirit as an 
ethical one, teaching Man the serious and weighty lessons of the 
moral life, than may be found in the following words from the thir- 
teenth book of '' The Prelude " ? Speaking of the beginning of the 
dawn, after his long wandering through the skeptic's night, he says : 

'T was proved that not in vain 
I had been taught to reverence a Power 
That is the visible quality and shape 
And image of right reason ; that matures 
Her processes by steadfast laws ; gives birth 
To no impatient or fallacious hopes. 
No heat of passion or excessive zeal. 
No vain conceits ; provokes to no quick turns 
Of self -applauding intellect ; but trains 
To meekness, and exalts by humble faith ; 
Holds up before the mind intoxicate 
With present objects, and the busy dance 
Of things that pass away, a temperate show 
Of objects that endure ; and by this course 
Disposes her, when over-fondly set * 

On throwing off incumbrances, to seek 
In man, and in the frame of social life, 
Whate'er there is desirable and good 
Of kindred permanence, unchanged in form 
And function, or, through strict vicissitude 
Of life and death, revolving. ^ 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 93-101. 2 ibid., XIII, 19-39. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 115 

In fact, two conceptions are peculiarly prominent in Wordsworth's 
earlier poetry. The first is that Nature is suffused _with Spirit; 
and the second is that she is a teacher, and preeminently a moral 
teacher, of Man. This is apparent in what has just been said. It is 
evident, also, in the four poems interpreted above, and it will be 
made eminently manifest — evident beyond question — in the chap- 
ters following. We shall find either one or both of these conceptions 
brought out explicitly in more than a score of poems. Nothing is 
more peculiarly distinctive of Wordsworth as a poet of Nature than 
this. Indeed, it is the feature of his verse that differentiates him 
from the large majority of poets in their attitude toward Nature. 

As to the second point urged by Lord Morley, namely, that 
Wordsworth's declaration concerning Nature's life as joyous must 
be interpreted merely as a ** charming fancy," it may be said that 
inasmuch as the Poet regards Nature as possessed of Spirit, and 
as one of the constitutional capacities of Spirit is its capacity for 
pleasure, why is not a literal interpretation of Wordsworth's dec- 
laration really the correct one t If as Spirit she can rejoice, then 
this '* first mild day of March," with the trailing periwinkle in 
blossom, with the birds singing, and with the twigs budding with a 
new life, is evidence to the Poet that she does rejoice. This is not 
an isolated declaration of his faith in Nature's joyousness. We 
find the same belief expressed in other poems. In the beautiful 
poem *' I wandered lonely as a cloud," the sparkling waves outdo 
the dancing daffodils in glee. In the poem beginning *' Three years 
she grew in sun and shower," Lucy, a child fashioned by Nature, 
is to manifest Nature's own joyous life. 

She shall be sportive as the fawn 
That wild with glee across the lawn 
Or up the mountain springs.^ 

Again, in the poem entitled ''To the Daisy" (1802) he addressed 
this little flower as '' cheerful Flower," and as alert and gay. And 

1 Three years she grew in sun and shower, 13-15. 



Il6 WORDSWORTH 

this is not merely figurative language. The entire poem speaks of 
the ministry of Nature to him through this common flower. Nature 
is possessed of a life of her own, and this life is a joyous life. She 
ministers to the Poet through this flower of the field, which ev- 
idently reflects the cheerful spirit of Nature, banishing melan- 
choly and bringing delight to his own soul. Again, in ''The 
Prelude," in his address to Nature, quoted above, he proceeds: 

O Soul of Nature ! excellent and fair ! 
That didst rejoice with me, with whom I, too, 
Rejoiced. 

So that, when he declares that it is his 

faith that every flower 
Enjoys the air it breathes, 

he simply utters what is the necessary implication of his conception 
of Nature as possessed of Spirit, or of things as having a spiritual life. 
''The Old Cumberland Beggar" brings out some of Words- 
worth's characteristic teaching in respect to both Nature and Man. 
It was composed at Racedown and Alf oxden in 1 798 and published 
in 1800, and was inspired by the war of the political economists 
" upon mendicity in all its forms, and by implication, if not directly, 
on alms-giving also." ^ It shows us how close the Poet was to both 
Man and Nature, and also how near they are to each other in his 
judgment. Wordsworth's optimism is also brought out in this 
poem in a more pronounced manner than heretofore. The essential 
universality of goodness is affirmed. A spirit of Good is associated 
with all things. It cannot be divorced even from the meanest and 
most degraded, the vilest and most brutish, of Nature's forms, much 
less from Man, even in his lowest estate : 

'T is Nature's law 
That none, the meanest of created things, 
Of forms created the most vile and brute. 
The dullest or most noxious, should exist 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, I, 299 n. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 117 

Divorced from good — a spirit and pulse of good, 
A life and soul, to every mode of being 
Inseparably linked. Then be assured 
That least of all can aught — that ever owned 
The heaven-regarding eye and front sublime 
Which man is born to — sink, howe'er depressed, 
So low as to be scorned without a sin.^ 

The old beggar, who has been reduced to the lowest terms of 
existence, and is apparently one of the most helpless of men, must 
not be regarded as utterly useless. Indeed, he performs a helpful 
ministry to society, by keeping alive the record of past deeds of 
charity, and by calling forth a spirit of beneficence. His extremity is 
an opportunity for kindness on the part of others. Thus he becomes 
a moral force. Therefore he should be allowed to roam at will, re- 
ceiving alms which are ** not robbed of their Christian grace and 
spirit." Do not imprison him, but let him continue to live '* in the 
eye of Nature," and '' in the eye of Nature let him die." Words- 
worth has great respect for a being who owns '' the heaven-regarding 
eye and front sublime," and, as in the earlier poems of the "Lyri- 
cal Ballads," he shows his regard for the nature of Man as Man. 

'' Peter Bell: A Tale," was composed in the summer of 1798, 
but was not published until 1 8 1 9. The poem was composed '' under 
a belief that the Imagination not only does not require for its ex- 
ercise the intervention of supernatural agency, but that, though such 
agency be excluded, the faculty may be called forth as imperiously 
and for kindred results of pleasure, by incidents, within the compass 
of poetic probability, in the humblest departments of daily life."^ In 
it will be found a conception of Man's relation to Nature different 
from that which has been presented heretofore. 

Part First opens with a description of the life and character of 
Peter Bell. He was af crude man, being feared much more than 
respected. Though he roved far and wide, travel failed to improve 
either his heart or his mind, and though he lived much with Nature, 

1 The Old Cumberland Beggar, 73-83. 

2 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, II, 2 n. 



Il8 WORDSWORTH 

she seemed never to have awakened in him a worthy response. He 
was indifferent to, if not, indeed, ignorant of, her charms. That 
she had any lesson to teach, that in her beauteous forms there 
was any spiritual meaning, never seemed to have dawned on his 
soul. She had not found the way to the heart of this lawless and 
insensate man. 

Nevertheless, Nature and Peter Bell were not total strangers. It 
is evident that they had frequently been together, and that he had 
been affected by her influence, but to his detriment. Her sterner 
influences had left their impress upon body and soul, and he 
reflected many of her wild and savage moods. 

" A savage wildness round him hung 

As of a dweller out of doors ; 

In his whole figure and his mien 

A savage character was seen 

Of mountains and of dreary moors. 

" To all the unshaped half -human thoughts 

Which solitary Nature feeds 

'Mid summer storms or winter's ice, 

Had Peter joined whatever vice 

The cruel city breeds. 

" His face was keen as is the wind 
That cuts along the hawthorn-fence ; 
Of courage you saw little there, 
But, in its stead, a medley air 
Of cunning and of impudence. 

" He had a dark and sidelong walk, 
And long and slouching was his gait ; 
Beneath his looks so bare and bold, 
You might perceive, his spirit cold 
Was playing with some inward bait." ^ 

Although much of the above description refers to the influence 
of Nature on Peter's physical being, still there is the thought that 
Nature's wildness and savagery found an echo in his soul, and that 

1 Peter Bell, 291-310. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 119 

this spiritual state was reflected in his bodily life. Occasionally her 
influence on character is for evil rather than for good. The pres- 
entation of this thought is not limited to this poem alone ; Words- 
worth refers to it again in " Ruth," where a passionate young man 
finds certain conditions of Nature really more harmful than helpful 
to character : 

The wind, the tempest roaring high, 

The tumult of a tropic sky, 

Might well be dangerous food 

For him, a Youth to whom was given 

So much of earth — so much of heaven, 

And such impetuous blood.^ 

So that this can hardly be regarded as a mere passing thought in 
the Poet's mind, but rather as his conviction concerning Nature's 
baneful influence on Man under certain conditions. 

After thus describing Peter Bell, Wordsworth proceeds to tell 
his tale. Traveling alone one beautiful November night, Peter 
meets an ass gazing into a stream. Finding no one near, he 
decides to steal the beast, and leaping upon his back endeavors 
to ride away ; but the animal refuses to move, and Peter soon 
discovers the reason why. A peculiar object in the water arrests 
his gaze, which, on investigation, reveals itself to be the body of 
a dead man, the owner of the ass. After removing the corpse 
from the water, Peter mounts the beast and journeys toward the 
home of its late master. His mind is full of fear and compunction. 
As he rides along, Nature seems to wear a peculiar aspect. Sounds 
take on a strange character and vague meaning. When he reaches 
his destination, the pathetic scenes which he is called upon to wit- 
ness in the family of the dead man touch his heart — a heart al- 
ready more or less softened by uncanny experience and by mingled 
feelings of fear and remorse. The " Spirits of the Mind," too, may 
have exercised their offices on Peter Bell. His fear was also aggra- 
vated by vague apprehensions of an avenging Nature. The result 

^ Ruth. 121-126. 



I20 WORDSWORTH 

is, that this reckless and depraved man forsakes a life of folly and 
wrongdoing, and becomes " a good and honest man." 

In this simple poem the Poet goes back to his boyhood experi- 
ences at Hawkshead, described in ''The Prelude." The same 
conception of Nature's relation to the moral nature of Man is 
brought out. Just as the boy, after stealing a woodcock snared by 
another, heard '' low breathings " among the solitary hills coming 
after him, so Peter, struggling with his conscience in the presence 
of Nature, as he journeys over a lonely plain, feels himself pur- 
sued by a withered leaf, and is in sore mental and moral distress. 

When Peter spied the moving thing, 
It only doubled his distress ; 
" Where there is not a bush or tree, 
The very leaves they follow me — 
So huge hath been my wickedness ! " ^ 

And, as in the case of Wordsworth, when he had plundered the 
raven's nest. Nature seemed to assume a peculiar and unearthly as- 
pect — *'the loud dry wind" blowing through his ear with ''strange 
utterance," and the sky seeming "not a sky of earth," and the clouds 
moving with a peculiar motion — so Peter hears something he does 
not like in the echo of the rocks in response to the ass's " long 
and clamorous bray " ; and when he brays again, more ruefully 
than before, the sound falls on Peter's ear with strange, trans- 
forming power — so strange, indeed, that Nature assumes a 
different appearance: 

What is there now in Peter's heart ! 
Or whence the might of this strange sound ? 
The moon uneasy looked and dimmer, 
The broad blue heavens appear to glimmer. 
And the rocks staggered all around.^ 

Furthermore, as in the Hawkshead days, after Wordsworth had 
seized by stealth a boat on Esthwaite Lake, 

1 Peter Bell, 706-710. « Ibid., 481-485. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 121 

a huge peak, black and huge, 
As if with voluntary power instinct 
Upreared its head,^ 

and, *' growing in stature," seemed to stride after him ''with 
measured motion like a living thing," so with Peter, rocks are 
transformed into fantastic objects, which seem to assume a kind 
of spiritual life, and to stare ominously at the frightened man.^ 

There is, undoubtedly, a subjective note in all this. Wordsworth 
brings before us here the belief presented in the first book of *' The 
Prelude." There he interprets the strange experience of his boy- 
hood as Nature's ministry. She was at work with his soul, " puri- 
fying the elements of feeling and of thought," and sanctifying his 
nature through discipline of pain and fear. In Peter Bell repent- 
ance is wrought through the power of Nature, conscience, and 
possibly the '' Spirits of the Mind." ^ In some respects Nature's 
power is even more manifest than in the Poet's case. With Words- 
worth she was dealing with an impressionable, callow, and morally 
sensitive youth. But in the case of Peter Bell she was laboring 
with a hardened sinner, to whose heart, for many years, it was im- 
possible for her to find the way. But she conquered him at last, 
and he became submissive to her will. 

Two important lessons are contained in this poem : first, that 
Nature exerts a powerful moral influence on Man; and second, 
that in some instances, in cases where the soul is not in harmony 

1 The Prelude, I, 3>8-38o. 2 peter Bell, 681-690. 

8 In Part Third of the poem, Wordsworth speaks of " potent Spirits " " that 
play with soul and sense " — Spirits that " trouble friends of goodness, for most 
gracious ends." He invokes these Spirits to try " what may be done with Peter 
Bell ! " Wordsworth was such a believer in " spirits " of Nature of different kinds 
— souls of things, souls of " lonely places," the soul of the universe, etc. — that it 
is'difficult to determine whether here he is expressing a belief in " Spirits of the 
Mind," or merely indulging in " poetic license." Lines 736-785 indicate a real be- 
lief in the existence of these " potent Spirits." But the main fact is that Nature 
and conscience cooperating are chiefly responsible for bringing Peter Bell to a 
consciousness of his wickedness, and to repentance. If, in this interpretation, too 
great a part in Peter's repentance and reform is ascribed to Nature, it may be 
said that, at least, it is in harmony with Wordsworth's general teaching. 



122 WORDSWORTH 

with moral law, her influence may prove harmful. These two 
conceptions amount to convictions with Wordsworth, and the first 
is undoubtedly fundamental in his thinking. 

Thus Man, Nature, and Nature's relation to Man were the 
sources of Wordsworth's poetical inspiration during these Alfoxden 
days. Whatever may be said of the poems written at this time 
which deal primarily with Man, we cannot fail to see in them a 
nobility of soul in the Poet's sympathy for men as he finds them 
in the humbler walks of life, in the tribute that he pays to their 
humanity, in the defense of their essential rights, and in the 
determination to exalt their virtues. No serious-minded student 
can help being impressed by the exalted conception of human 
nature which these poems contain. Stripping Man of all artifici- 
ality, and reducing his nature to its naked, fundamental elements, 
the Poet declares it to be '' good." Optimism is the faith pre- 
sented in the "Lyrical Ballads" — not a blind, natve confidence 
in Man's constitution, but a faith originally strong, gradually under- 
mined by the weakness and excesses of men, and by a barren 
critical analysis of the human spirit, and reestablished by actual 
contact with men in the natural manifestations of their essential 
life. Whatever, then, may be our judgments concerning these 
simple poems as works of art, we can sympathize with Hazlitt's 
confession after hearing Coleridge read them : *' In ' The Thorn,' 
*The Mad Mother,' and 'The Complaint of a Poor Indian Woman,* 
I felt that deeper passion and pathos, which have since been ac- 
knowledged as the characteristics of the author ; and, the sense of 
a new style, and a new spirit in poetry came over me. It had to 
me something of the effect that arises from the turning up of the 
fresh soil, or the first welcome breath of spring." ^ 

And so, too, with respect to the poems of Nature written at 
Alfoxden ; they breathe a most wholesome atmosphere and re- 
veal a mind in closest touch with the natural world. Compared 
with the conventional treatment of Nature common in much of 

1 Hazlitt, The Liberal, II, 371. 



NATURE AND HER RELATION TO MAN 123 

preceding English poetry, they come Hke a fresh breeze from 
vernal field and wood. They disclose not merely the body, but 
the soul of Nature. They teach us that she and Man are members 
of a spiritual kingdom in which her function is to minister to his 
mental and moral need in wisdom and love. They reveal such an 
insight into the life of things, such an intuition into the very heart 
of Reality, that we can appreciate the observation of Coleridge to 
Hazlitt, made before these ballads had appeared in print, that 
**his philosophical poetry," by which undoubtedly he referred 
chiefly to his poems of Nature, " had a grand and comprehensive 
spirit in it, so that his soul seemed to inhabit the Universe like 
a palace, and to discover truth by intuition rather than by deduc- 
tion." 1 Intuition undoubtedly it was, for there is no reasoning 
in these ballads. There is an immediate perception of the inner 
nature of corporeal Being. But how rich and profound the in- 
tuition, giving us an apprehension of things as instinct with life, 
possessed of a spirit of joy, wisdom, and love, and performing a 
holy ministry in their relation to the spirit of Man ! 

1 Coleridge, The Liberal^ II, 371. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE "LYRICAL BALLADS" (CONCLUDED). "LINES COMPOSED 
A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY" 

Notwithstanding the beauty of their natural surroundings, and 
the delightful society it was their privilege to enjoy, the Words- 
worths didjnot abide long in Alfoxden. This, however, was not due 
to disinclination, but to the fact that the house in which they were 
living was not available for another year. Coleridge was consider- 
ably perturbed over Wordsworth's departure. In a letter to Cottle, 
the publisher, he manifests not only this but also his recognition 
of Wordsworth as a poet of Nature. He writes : '* Whether we 
shall be able to procure him a house and furniture near Stowey 
we know not, and yet we must ; for the hills, and the woods, and 
the streams, and the sea, and the shores would break forth into 
reproaches against us if we did not strain every nerve to keep their 
Poet among them. Without joking, and in serious sadness, Poole 
and I cannot endure to think of losing him." ^ Evidently the house 
was not procured, for, after arranging with Coleridge to make a 
visit to Germany, the Wordsworths left Alfoxden, June 26, 1 798, 
and, after spending a week with Coleridge at Stowey, and a week 
with Cottle at Bristol, where Wordsworth completed arrangements 
for the publication of a volume of poems, they left for a brief 
journey to the Wye. The journey is of importance because of its 
associations with Wordsworth's immortal poem " Lines com- 
posed a few miles above Tintern Abbey. " Concerning the circum- 
stances under which the poem was written, he says : *' No poem 
of mine was composed under circumstances more pleasant for me 
to remember than this. I began it upon leaving Tintern, after 

1 Knight, Life of William Wordsworth, I, 155. 
124 



LINES COMPOSED ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY 125 

crossing the Wye, and concluded it just as I was entering Bristol 
in the evening, after a ramble of four or five days, with my sister. 
Not a line of it was altered, and not any part of it written down 
till I reached Bristol. It was published almost immediately after 
in the little volume of which so much has been said in these Notes, 
the * Lyrical Ballads,' as first published at Bristol by Cottle." ^ 
The poem deserves special consideration, for in it we shall find 
the Wordsworthian creed concerning Nature and Man, and their 
relations, quite complete, and set to beautiful and ** impassioned 
music." As Mr. Myers says: ''The 'Lines written above Tintern 
Abbey ' have become, as it were, the locus classicus^ or consecrated 
formulary of the Wordsworthian faith. They say in brief what it 
is the work of the poet's biographer to say in detail." ^ We may 
search Wordsworth's entire body of verse without finding a better 
expression of the fundamentals of his fajth. 

Five years before, after crossing Sarum Plain, to visit his old 
college friend Robert Jones, Wordsworth had made a journey to 
the Wye. The memory of the "beauteous forms" of this lovely 
country had evijdently lingered with him, and he now tells us some- 
thing of their ministry to his soul during this long interim. These 
beautiful objects have not been unremembered or unfelt by him, 
even when he was far removed from them and engrossed with the 
perplexities of a somewhat unsettled life. Rather have they been 
with him " in lonely rooms " and in the midst of the wearying din 
of town and city. He has felt their influence in the form of pleas- 
ing and deep-seated sensations, bringing peace and tranquillity to 
his soul ; also in those quiet, subtle, unre^fiembered pleasures which 
prompt many of the kindly acts that make up so much of a good 
man's life. But more than this : their influence was responsible for 
a mystical and consoling mood, in which the Poet was almost com- 
pletely released from the life of body and sense, and was permitted 
to rise unfettered into the higher life of the spirit, catching a vision 
of the inner nature of things — 

1 Poetical Works, edited by Knight, II, 51 n. * Myers, Wordsworth, 33. 



126 WORDSWORTH 

that blessed mood, 
In which the burthen of the mystery, 
In which the heavy and the weary weight 
Of all this unintelligible world, 
Is lightened : — that serene and blessed mood, 
In which the affections gently lead us on, — 
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 
And even the motion of our human blood 
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 
In body, and become a living soul : 
While with an eye made quiet by the power 
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 
We see into the life of things.^ 

This mystic mood, to which Wordsworth was subject, and through 
which much of what he teaches was revealed, is here super- 
induced, not by direct contact with Nature, as was the case in 
his boyhood and youth, but by remembered Nature — by recall- 
ing the '' beauteous forms" with which he had previously come 
in contact. Thus Nature, not only immediately, through the eye 
of sense, but mediately^ through the power of memory, was able, 
by a remembered harmony, to lay him asleep in body, and per- 
mit him to '' become a living soul," with a power to '' see into the 
life of things." 

But if what has been said concerning Nature's power to inspire 
such a mystic vision be merely a foundationless belief, still there is 
no doubt in the poet's mind concerning her power to console and 
heal the stricken spirit. Certainly it was so in his case. These 
lovely forms, as they came to him through memory, proved a 
refuge in the hour of disappointment and sorrow, in those days of 
darkness and sore distress occasioned by his experience with the 
course of political events during the French Revolution, when, in 
the midnight of his soul, he was unable to see even a ray of 
hope in his darkness and despair. To these remembered scenes 
he had turned for help, and Nature came to his relief. This is 
his confession : 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 37-48. 



LINES COMPOSED ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY 127 

If this 
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft — 
In darkness and amid the many shapes 
Of joyless daylight ; when the fretful stir 
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart — 
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 
O sylvan Wye ! thou wanderer thro' the woods, 
How often has my spirit turned to thee!^ 

Once more we see how thoroughly a child of Nature Wordsworth 
was. He sought comfort from her in his darkest days, even 
when, indeed, he was deserting her and viewing her with the eye 
of a critic rather than with the eye and spirit of a lover and poet. 
Through long-continued habit he turned to her for succor. It 
becomes more and more evident that this intimate relation which 
he sustained to Nature, or rather which, as he believed, she sus- 
tained to him, must be regarded as one of the most powerful forces 
in his spiritual life and development as a Poet. 

But the poem grows in interest, showing, as it does, his state of 
mind as he stands again in the actual presence of these former 
scenes, and Past, Present, and Future seem to engage his con- 
sciousness. In the midst of these attractive surroundings he has 
not only a *' sense of present pleasure " but an agreeable conscious- 
ness that the present moment has promise for the future. At least 
so he dares to hope, although, undoubtedly, he has changed in some 
respects sihce his former visit. And it is well to note the charac- 
ter of the change. Then he roamed through Nature's wilds impelled 
by a regard amounting almost to blind passion. Her forms were 
an appetite, a love. No other interest than that furnished by the 
eye was necessary to compel his devotion. Her beauty and sub- 
limity, appealing to his senses, were sufficient to compel subjection 
to her sovereignty. She was all in all to him. That time is no 
more ; a change has been wrought. Yet he does not mourn the 
change ; a gain compensates the loss. Now Nature appeals to him 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 49-57. 



128 WORDSWORTH 

in a different way. He is no longer steeped in mere personal or 
subjective feeling. She awakens feelings and thoughts that lead 
beyond themselves — that own **a remoter charm." As he be- 
holds her he often hears 

The still, sad music of humanity, 

Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 

To chasten and subdue.^ 

Nature now leads him to Man with his spiritual burden, chastening 
and subduing his soul. She not only charms him with her beauty 
and loveliness, but calls attention to the human world in which he 
lives, with its weight of sad and sorrowful experience. But more 
than this : she has also powerfully affected his intellectual and 
emotional life. He has gained such an insight into her real life 
that he has felt " a presence " disturbing him '' with the joy of 
elevated thoughts." He has had a sense of an all-pervading Spirit 
in Nature, in such close relations to his soul as to awaken a sub- 
limer consciousness of its immanence and activity, both in Nature 
and in Man, than he had ever before experienced. In it both 
things and men live and move and have their being. It is because 
of this sublime and profound insight that he regards Nature with 
such deep affection. This is why he finds in her an anchor for 
his noblest thoughts, a " nurse," a " guide," a '' guardian " of his 
heart, and the very soul of his moral being. 

And I have felt 
A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
Of something far more deeply interfused. 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air. 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought. 
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still 
A lover of the meadows and the woods, 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 91-93. 



LINES COMPOSED ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY 129 

And mountains ; and of all that we behold 
From this green earth ; of all the mighty world 
Of eye, and ear, — both what they half create, 
And what perceive ; well pleased to recognise 
In nature and the language of the sense 
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse. 
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
Of all my moral being.^ 

Here is insight^ — insight of the true poet and mystical philoso- 
pher — and as a result we have the most complete expression of 
his conception of the nature of Reality yet given by Wordsworth. 
Heretofore he has, indeed, told of a Spirit pervading all Nature, 
and of Nature as ministering to Man's soul, but never before has 
he approached so near to identifying this omnipresent Spirit with 
the activity of things and minds. Indeed, with reference to Man, 
he has at no previous time brought this Universal Spirit into such 
close relationship with him as to conceive of the human mind as 
its dwelling place, and of the Spirit itself as the impelling power 
of human thought. 

It is this immanence of a Spirit in Nature and Man, and the 
conception of it as the active, animating Power in both, so superbly 
described in the beautiful lines of this beautiful poem, that has led 
many of the readers of Wordsworth to regard him as a Pantheist. 
A Power so deeply interfused with Nature and Man, which has 
as its dwelling not only the light of setting suns, the vast ocean, 
the universal air, and infinite sky, but also the self-conscious and 
self -determining mind of Man ; which is the impelling power of 
all thinking things, and of the objects of all thought; that rolls 
through all things — such a Power, it is said, is *'the All " of the 
Pantheist. Language like this seems to identify Nature and Man 
with the Ground of all Reality. Indeed, his own kinsman-biographer 
feels it necessary to offer at least a quasi-apology for the Poet's 
apparent lack of orthodoxy manifest in this poem. He says : '' If 
also, as is not improbable, he [the reflective reader] should be of 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintem Abbey, 93-1 11. 



I30 WORDSWORTH 

the opinion that a ' worshiper of nature ' is in danger of divinizing 
the creation and of dishonouring the Creator, and that, therefore, 
some portions of this poem might be perverted to serve the pur- 
poses of a popular and pantheistic philosophy, he will remember 
that the author of the * Lines on Tintern Abbey,' composed also 
the ' Evening Voluntaries,' and that he who professes himself an 
ardent votary of nature, has explained the sense in which he wishes 
these words to be understood, by saying, that 

By grace divine, 
Not otherwise, O Nature, we are thine." ^ 

But this apology, or explanation, is unnecessary, because there 
is no Pantheism here. Thorough-going Pantheism does not speak 
of a Universal Spirit, or of a God, or of an Absolute, as dwelling 
in Nature, but identifies Nature with the Absolute. All forms are 
modes of its energizing or functioning. Neither does Pantheism 
speak of the Universal Spirit as dwelling in the mind of Man. It 
identifies the human mind with the Universal Being. It too is a 
mode of the Absolute's activity. Both things and minds are merely 
the Absolute individualized, and they sustain the same relation 
to it that billows sustain to the sea, to use the figure of Spinoza, 
the prince of modern Pantheists. The sea does not exist apart 
from the billows, nor do the billows exist apart from the sea. They 
are, ultimately considered, one and the same. So with the Abso- 
lute in its relation to things and minds. The latter do not exist 
apart from the former. They have no essential being, no separate 
individuality, no being-for-self, according to Pantheism. They exist 
only as modes of the one Ultimate Being. 

Furthermore, Pantheism really cancels the personality of both 
God and Man. All being is governed by an inner law of necessity, 
and therefore there is no such thing as self-determining being. 
But the power of self-determination is the very core of personality ; 
hence Pantheism precludes the possibility of personality in either 

1 Memoirs, I, 120. 



LINES COMPOSED ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY 131 

God or Man. The necessary implication of all this is that there 
can be no moral life in God or Man, for how can there be morality 
without self -consciousness and self-determination ? In other words, 
with Pantheism there is no real selfhood. 

Now Wordsworth's conception of a Spirit present in all things, 
and in the mind of man — a Spirit which is the impelling power 
of both — is very far removed from such a philosophy. He brings 
out, in the lines quoted above, the existence of three distinct natures 
— a Universal Presence, a world of corporeal things, and a world 
of finite spirits. He does not identify the Universal Spirit with 
" the light of setting suns," nor with '' the round ocean," nor with 
'' the living air," nor with '* the blue sky," nor with '' the mind of 
man." He merely affirms that these are its '' dwelling,'' and that 
Spirit is their impelling power. Only the immanence of the Abso- 
lute or Universal Spirit in the finite is declared. Pantheism is not 
involved in such a statement. The Poet is merely giving expres- 
sion to his faith in the immanence of Spirit in the world — a faith 
which is in thorough accord with Theism. 

Neither does this notable poem warrant the inference that 
Wordsworth is an Idealist. He is sometimes represented as such in 
his ontology — in his doctrine of the ultimate nature of things. It 
is said that he affirms all Reality to be mental in its essential nature. 
However, this is neither the explicit teaching of this poem, nor a 
necessary implication of it. The Poet does not say that corporeal 
things are minds, nor does he identify them with an Infinite Mind. 
What he does say is that Mind or Spirit is present in things. 
Whether so-called material being, as material, has any reality at all 
is not revealed in this poem. There were times in his childhood, 
as we shall see later in the ''Ode. Intimations of Immortality," when 
in his trance-experiences the physical world seemed canceled and 
he apprehended merely a spiritual world. But there is no evidence 
that the extreme mental attitudes represented in these abnormal 
or supernormal moods ever attained to the dignity of a permanent 
faith with him. In the poem under consideration, Wordsworth's 



132 WORDSWORTH 

teaching concerning corporeal Reality is that there is a world of 
things, but that this world is not dead or inert, but alive with Spirit. 
He does not determine the ultimate metaphysical relation of things 
to this Spirit more than to say that it is their impelling Power. But 
if he does not deal definitely and ultimately with the relations of 
so-called matter to Spirit, it is because here he is primarily the 
poet and not the systematic philosopher. He is not reasoning 
about Reality, but recording a vision of it. Indeed, in the poetry 
of Nature considered thus far, he is really not a philosopher at all. 
He is a poet — a poet with mystical insight. He has a vision 
born of mystical feeling, in which he apprehends a Spirit, or a 
Presence, which is neither things nor finite minds, but dwells in 
them. This Presence is 

A motion and a spirit, that impels 

All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 

And rolls through all things.^ 

He is giving utterance to a refined Theistic view of God, things, 
and finite minds, rather than to either a Pantheistic or an Idealistic 
view. And if his intuition of the relations of this Spirit to things 
and minds does not completely satisfy, it is hardly, in the final 
analysis, less satisfactory than the conclusions^of Philosophy. At 
least it does not involve the difficulties inherent in Pantheism — 
the cancellation of the reality of the finite, and of personality in 
both God and Man. And yet it preserves to us the satisfying truth 
of the Divine immanence in the world, which constitutes the main 
strength of Pantheism. And how immeasurably superior is the 
Poet's teaching to that crude, unphilosophic, unpoetic, Deistic doc- 
trine of God's relation to the world which obtained in the age pre- 
ceding, which despiritualized Nature and robbed the world of God's 
presence, conceiving of him as afar off — a Creator who, having 
made his world, withdrew from it, and from his transcendent throne 
looks down upon a huge machine, running like a wound-up clock, 
and, as Carlyle remarks, " sees it go ! " 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 100-102. 



LINES COMPOSED ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY 133 

This poem embodies Wordsworth's prevailing conception of Na- 
ture. There is no conception here of individual things possessing 
souls. It is the Universal Soul that is present in things. The 
Spiritual unity of Nature is preserved. This is very apparent in 

the words : 

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things.^ 

Pursuing the analysis of the poem still further, we find that 
Wordsworth continues to speak of Nature and of her relations to 
Man. Turning in thought to his sister, to pay her a kindly tribute, 
he again gives expression to his regard for Nature. She is the faith- 
ful friend of Man, and ministers to his need. Her loyalty can never 
be impeached. She has never been found guilty of treason to the 
heart that loves her. She so ministers to the mind through her 
beauty, through the knowledge she imparts, and the thoughts she in- 
spires, through her solaces and joys, that all the evil men can do, and 
aU the dullness and '' dreary intercourse of daily life," can neither 
overcome us, nor disturb our faith in a beneficent order of things. 

And this prayer I make, 
Knowing that Nature never did betray 
The heart that loved her ; 't is her privilege. 
Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
From joy to joy : for she can so inform 
The mind that is within us, so impress 
With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues. 
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 
The dreary intercourse of daily life. 
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
Is full of blessings.2 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintem Abbey, 97-102. 2 ibid., 1 21-134. 



134 WORDSWORTH 

i 
There are in these lines, either by implication or by explicit 

statement, essentially all of the dominant Wordsworthian concep- 
tions concerning Nature and her relation to Man contained in the 
poems already considered, but in a more pronounced form. Here 
is a creed full of moral and spiritual elevation, and Wordsworth 
seems to believe it with his whole mind and heart. He smites the 
hard rock in the wilderness of human life, and from it flows a veri- 
table stream of living water, full of healing for human souls. No- 
where in literature can be found a more refined Spiritualism, and 
a more indomitable Optimism, than is here expressed. 

Wordsworth closes this immortal poem with a confession that he 
had long worshiped at Nature's shrine, and that he came to the 
banks of the Wye '* unwearied in that service," nay, even with a 
warmer affection for his divine Mistress — a ''far deeper zeal of 
holier love." So that the '' beauteous forms " which greet his eye 
and minister to his spirit, as he stands near these waters that roll 
**from their mountain-springs with a soft inland murmur," are 
more dear to him than heretofore. 

Of the poems which constitute the first edition of the " Lyrical 
Ballads," this one, so peculiarly characteristic of Wordsworth's 
poetic genius and faith, was doubtless the last composed. It was 
written in July, 1798, and is a fitting close to a period of grad- 
ual mental and spiritual restoration, in which his former faith in, 
and love for, both Man and Nature were not only restored but 
also strengthened and enriched. He has recovered completely 
from his '' moral disease," and has emerged from the trying ordeal, 
a better self, chastened and subdued, and ''with a stronger faith 
his own." It is a fitting close, also, to a period in which his faith 
gradually took form — in which it became articulate, and crystal- 
lized into a kind of "substance of doctrine," a creed affirming the 
essential goodness of Man, and the spiritual nature of things ; that 
resolves the Universe into a spiritual kingdom, wherein Love is 
law, and " all which we behold is full of blessing " ; a creed that 
bridges the chasm between Nature and Man, bringing them 



LINES COMPOSED ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY 135 

together into closest relations, in which the function of the former 
is to minister to the intellectual, aesthetic, and moral needs of the 
latter, feeding his soul with truth, beauty, and goodness, fortify- 
ing him against all evil, and enabling him to bear the '' burthen 
of the mystery " — '' the heavy and the weary weight of all this 
unintelligible world." 

In conclusion it may be said that, whatever be the final verdict 
in regard to the literary merit of the '' Lyrical Ballads,"^ no one can 
successfully deny that they represent a noble ethical aim, a lofty 
conception of the poet's function, a decided growth in mental and 
spiritual power, a profound love for, and deep insight into, the 
heart both of Nature and of Man, and a sublime poetical and, in a 
sense, philosophical faith, that breathes inspiration, hope, and love 
in such large measure, and with such deep earnestness, that it 
cannot fail to prove a moral and spiritual tonic to every thoughtful 
soul who drinks in the simple melody of these songs, and reflects 
seriously upon their wholesome content. 

1 Cf. especially Francis Jeffrey, Poems, in Two Volumes, The Edinburgh Review, 
IX, 1807-1808 ; and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Biographia Literaria, xiv, xvii, xviii, 
XX, and xxii, New York, 1884. 



CHAPTER IX 
GERMANY AND RETURN. POETRY OF NATURE 

On September i6, 1798, Wordsworth, Dorothy, and Coleridge 
left England for Germany. Coleridge left the Wordsworths at 
Hamburg, going to Ratzeburg, and thence to Gottingen. The 
Wordsworths went to Goslar, where they remained until February 
10. The Poet was not idle here, and these winter months witness 
the production of a goodly number of poems, all of which bear the 
usual marks concerning Nature. His principal conceptions and 
beliefs are constantly in evidence. 

Following a chronological order, we first meet with the poem 
*' There was a Boy," which is an *' extract," as Wordsworth called 
it later, from '' The Prelude." It was composed in 1798 and pub- 
lished in 1800 as a separate poem. Later, however, it took its 
place in the autobiographical work. In his Preface to the edition 
of 181 5 Wordsworth refers to it in a manner which evinces at 
once its personal character, and also throws light on the develop- 
ment of his imagination under the influence of Nature. ** In the 
series of Poems placed under the head of Imagination," he says, 
'' 1 have begun with one of the earliest processes of Nature in the 
development of this faculty. Guided by one of my own primary 
consciousnesses, I have represented a commutation and transfer 
of internal feelings, cooperating with external accidents to plant, 
for immortality, conjoined impressions of sound and sight in the 
celestial soil of the Imagination." ^ And then, referring to this 
poem, which tells of a boy of his acquaintance who, with the 
palms of his hands pressed together, used ''to blow mimic hoot- 
ings to the silent owls," he adds : ''The Boy, there introduced, is 

1 Prose Works, edited by Knight, II, 215-216. 
136 



POETRY OF NATURE 137 

listening, with something of a feverish and restless anxiety, for the 

recurrence of the riotous sounds which he had previously excited ; 

and, at the moment when the intenseness of his mind is beginning 

to remit, he is surprised into a perception of the solemn and tran- 

quillising images which the Poem describes." ^ This poem reveals 

a peculiarity of Wordsworth's genius of which we shall speak more 

at length when considering the '' Ode. Intimations of Immortality." 

It is his conception of Nature as passing beyond the gates of sense, 

engaging the imagination, warmed by a strong mystical feeling, and 

resulting finally in poetic insight. This peculiarity is manifest in 

the words: 

And, when there came a pause 
Of silence such as baffled his best skill : 
Then sometimes, in that silence, while he hung 
Listening, a gentle shock of mild surprise 
Has carried far into his heart the voice 
Of mountain-torrents ; or the visible scene 
Would enter unawares into his mind, 
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, 
Its woods, and that uncertain heaven received 
Into the bosom of the steady lake.*^ 

As Professor Edward Caird says : *' By such electric strokes, even 
more than by the direct expression of his poetic creed, though 
that also is not wanting, Wordsworth makes us feel that it is one 
spirit that speaks in man and nature, and that, therefore, the poet's 
vision is no mere playing with metaphors, but a real discovery of 
*a presence far more deeply interfused.' The poet, with trembling 
and watchful sensibility, seems to stand between the worlds, and 
catches the faintest sounds of recognition that are carried from one 
to the other." ^ 

Another interesting Nature poem bears the cumbersome title 
" Influence of Natural Objects in calling forth and strengthening 
the Imagination in Boyhood and early Youth." It was composed in 

1 Prose Works, edited by Knight, II, 215-216. ^ There was a Boy, 16-25. 

8 Caird, Essays on Literature and Philosophy, I, 177, New York, 1892. 



138 WORDSWORTH 

1799, but not published until 1809. Later it appeared as part of 
" The Prelude." It is, of course, as the title indicates, a poem that 
deals with Nature's influence on the soul in the earlier years of life. 
According to the conception here presented. Nature is pervaded 
by a universal Presence. This Presence is the ''Wisdom and Spirit 
of the universe " ; it is the '' Soul " and '' Eternity of thought." It 
gives to '' forms and images a breath and everlasting motion." 
The Poet represents it as having come into relations with him in 
the very dawn of childhood, as having intertwined for him the 
passions which constitute the soul. It fashioned his spirit not by 
objects of man's crude construction, but rather by bringing him 
into contact with Nature's lofty and enduring works, which proved 
to be a means of purification and a sanctifying force. Such was 
the fellowship sustained by him thus early with Nature, and which 
she vouchsafed in generous measure. The poem has already been 
quoted in connection with Wordsworth's interpretation of his ex- 
perience when, by act of stealth, he seized a boat on Esthwaite 
Lake and, under the influence of a guilty conscience. Nature seemed 
to take on the form of a moral avenger. It contains not only Words- 
worth's conception of Nature as animated by an eternal Spirit of 
Wisdom, but also as a builder, fashioner, and purifier of Man in 
his earliest years. 

'*The Simplon Pass " was composed probably in 1799, but not 
published until 1845. Later it, too, was included in "The Pre- 
lude." It records a description of Switzerland scenery as Words- 
worth beheld it when, in 1 790, in company with his friend Jones, 
he crossed the Alps by way of this well-known Pass. In the poem 
it is apparent how much Nature was to the Poet even at this time. 
But it has also another feature of interest. It is not so markedly 
Wordsworthian as the conception emphasized heretofore. It seems 
to conceive of Nature as symbolical of Spirit rather than as possessed 
of life and mind. Her forms are conceived of as types and symbols 
of spiritual life. She works as if possessed of Spirit. This is evi- 
dent from the last half of the poem as it appears in its early form : 



POETRY OF NATURE 1 39 

The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, 

Black drizzling crags that spake by the wayside 

As if a voice were in them, the sick sight 

And giddy prospect of the raving stream. 

The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens, 

Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light — 

Were all like workings of one mind, the features 

Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree, 

Characters of the great Apocalypse, 

The types and symbols of Eternity, 

Of first, and last, and midst, and without end.^ 

• 

However, this symbolical conception of Nature does not often 
occur in Wordsworth. He is too much a poet of insight or intu- 
ition to rest in symbolism. With him, as a rule, Nature does 
not behave like Spirit, but Nature is corporeal Reality animated 
by Spirit. 

" Nutting " is a poem more distinctively characteristic of its 
author than the one just considered. It, also, was written in Ger- 
many in 1799, and was originally intended to be part of **The 
Prelude," but was finally excluded. It strikes a subjective note, 
disclosing his own peculiar feelings as a boy. In the Preface he 
says, " These verses arose out of the remembrance of feelings I 
had often when a boy, and particularly in the extensive woods that 
still stretch from the side of Esthwaite Lake towards Graythwaite."^ 
The poem itself describes a nutting excursion taken in company 
with his sister, and the feelings of remorse experienced by him on 
looking upon his ruthless ravage of Nature in pursuit of his object, 
which he regards as a desecration. The riches of the woods are 
acquired, but only by mercilessly mutilating a hazel tree, and de- 
spoiling its immediate surroundings. The boy does not long exult 
in his newly acquired wealth without a mingled feeling of sorrow 
and remorse because of his wantonness, and soon becomes con- 
scious of "a spirit in the woods" : 

1 The Simplon Pass, 10-20. 

2 Poetical Works, edited by Knight, 70 n. 



I40 WORDSWORTH 

Then up I rose, 
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash 
And merciless ravage : and the shady nook 
Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower, 
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up 
Their quiet being : and unless I now 
Confound my present feelings with the past, 
Ere from the mutilated bower I turned 
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings, 
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld 
The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky, — 
Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades 
In gentleness of heart ; with gentle hand 
Touch — for there is a spirit in the woods.^ 

There is a reminder here of other boyhood experiences during the 
Hawkshead days previously referred to. It is worthy of note that 
this feeUng concerning Nature's moral relation to Man not only 
took possession of Wordsworth when a boy, but even now he is 
not quite sure whether he is confounding present with past feelings. 
This is in line with interpretations of former experiences which he 
narrates in "The Prelude," one of which, as we have just seen, 
was written about this time; so that this conception of Nature 
must not be regarded as merely a state of mind belonging to him 
as a boy, but rather as representing what by this time had attained 
to the dignity and power of a definite conviction, or faith. Here 
again is evinced that strong ethical sense with which Wordsworth 
seems to have been endowed, and through which Nature so often 
appealed to him. It makes him feel guilty of gross violence. He 
has ruthlessly despoiled her face, and now struggles with com- 
punctions of conscience, and has a weird consciousness of '' a spirit 
in the woods." 

But there is still another point to be noticed here. Attention 
has been called to the fact that Wordsworth's conception of Nature 
as possessed of spirit is not always the same. He sometimes con- 
ceives of all corporeal things as animated by one consciousness ; 

1 Nutting, 43-56- 



POETRY OF NATURE 141 

at other times he represents things as having souls. But there is 
still another conception to which he occasionally gives expression. 
Not only things but places are invested with spirit life, not merely 
in a poetic but in a real sense. The conception of '' a spirit in the 
woods " is an illustration. But this does not stand alone. There 
are other examples to be found in his poetry, as, for instance, in 
'* The Prelude," where he conceives of the '' Presences of Nature 
in the sky and on the earth," of the '' Souls of lonely places," etc., 
as performing a moral ministry similar to that implied in " Nutting." 
What other interpretation can be put upon this apostrophe ? 

Ye Presences of Nature in the sky 
And on the earth ! Ye Visions of the hills ! 
And Souls of lonely places ! can I think 
A vulgar hope was yours when ye employed 
Such ministry, when ye through many a year 
Haunting me thus among my boyish sports, 
On caves and trees, upon the woods and hills, 
Impressed upon all forms the characters 
Of danger or desire ; and thus did make 
The surface of the universal earth 
With triumph and delight, with hope and fear. 
Work like a sea ? ^ 

The fact is that Wordsworth's soul would every now and then hark 
bacK to primitive man, and frame conceptions of Nature-spirits 
very like those which obtained in early times. 

A well-known poem, written in 1799, and published in 1800, 
bears the title ''A Poet's Epitaph." Wordsworth here presents 
his views of what really constitutes a poet and differentiates him 
from other men. The statesman, lawyer, theologian, soldier, phy- 
sician, scientist, and moralist are warned away from the poet's 
grave, because they are not in touch with his mood or in sym- 
pathy with his mental attitude ; but the humble poet is welcomed, 
for the simple reason that he is a poet, and is possessed, therefore, 
of his love for, and insight into. Nature. His attitude toward her 

1 The Prelude, I, 464-474. 



142 WORDSWORTH 

is far removed from that of the scientist or philosopher, who '* would 
peep and botanize upon his mother's grave." The poet is no such 
*' fingering slave" as this. He is possessed of no such "ever- 
dwindling soul." Rather does he live on terms of fellowship with 
Nature, receiving her inspirations and profound impulses. 

He murmurs near the running brooks 
A music sweeter than their own. 



The outward shows of sky and earth, 
Of hill and valley, he has viewed ; 
And impulses of deeper birth 
Have come to him in solitude. 

In common things that round us lie 
Some random truths he can impart, — 
The harvest of a quiet eye 
That broods and sleeps on his own heart.'^ 

He views her externals, but has also insight into her inner life. 
The poet reaches the heart of things not by the cold processes of 
the logical intellect — by analysis and dissection, and conclusions 
therefrom — but by sympathy, love, meditation, mystical brooding, 
and intuition. It is thus that insight is gained. He is Nature's 
friend and confidant, to whom she reveals her deeper life and 
mind, and to whom she speaks her spiritual message. Wordsworth 
is undoubtedly giving expression here to his own experience, de- 
scribing his own mental processes as a poet, for, as we have seen 
and shall continue to see, it is thus that he deals with Nature and 
that Nature deals with him. Seldom does he reason about her in 
his poetry ; he meditates, broods, and thus receives the vision. 

Another poem, very beautiful indeed, and very interesting, too, 
from the standpoint of our special study, is the well-known poem 
** Three years she grew in sun and shower," composed in the 
Hartz Forest. He describes a girl as Nature would fashion her 
were she to be her own — a girl in whom her different moods 

1 A Poet's Epitaph, 39-52. 



POETRY OF NATURE 1 43 

and the beauty and grace of her fairest forms would be reflected. 
The poem expresses implicit faith in Nature's consummate art. 

" Myself will to my darling be 

Both law and impulse : and with me 

The Girl, in rock and plain, 

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, 

Shall feel an overseeing power 

To kindle or restrain. 

" She shall be sportive as the fawn 
That wild with glee across the lawn 
Or up the mountain springs; 
And hers shall be the breathing balm, 
And hers the silence and the calm 
Of mute insensate things. 

" The floating clouds their state shall lend 
To her ; for her the willow bend ; 
Nor shall she fail to see 
Even in the motions of the Storm 
Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form 
By silent sympathy. 

" The stars of midnight shall be dear 

To her ; and she shall lean her ear 

In many a secret place 

Where rivulets dance their wayward round, 

And beauty bom of murmuring sound 

Shall pass into her face. 

" And vital feelings of delight 
Shall rear her form to stately height, 
Her virgin bosom swell ; 
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give 
While she and I together live 
Here in this happy dell." ^ 

This is delightful, and it is really expressive of Wordsworth's faith 
in Nature's moulding or fashioning power. He is not giving vent 
merely to a charming fancy. We have seen it manifest over and 

1 Three years she grew in sun and shower, 7-36. 



144 WORDSWORTH 

over again that the Poet regards it as one of Nature's functions to 
mould both the body and the soul of Man, and here Wordsworth 
shows, in exquisite verse, just how skillfully she can perform her 
office, and by what methods it is accomplished. Where, in all liter- 
ature, can be found such a beautiful conception and presentation 
of Nature's relation to Man ? In many respects it is unique — far 
removed from the conceptions of Nature to be found in previous 
English poetry; nor is it wide of the truth as viewed from the 
standpoint of biological science in its emphasis of the influence of 
physical environment on our bodily and mental life. 

There are, however, several poems of this period which present 
Nature in another relation to Man. The Matthew poems, and the 
beautiful and pathetic poem entitled " Ruth," are of this character. 
According to the former. Nature is sometimes, through mem- 
ory and the subtle laws of association, the source of sadness 
and sorrow. In ''The Two April Mornings," Matthew, the aged 
village schoolmaster, is traveling merrily along with his young 
friend to spend a day among the hills. But soon the old man 
realizes that Nature wears an aspect similar to that worn by her 
on a like day long ago — a day on which he pursued his sport 
until suddenly he came upon his daughter's grave and, on turning 
from it, met a fair maiden, the very sight of whom made him pain- 
fully conscious of his own loss. This beautiful April morn, so like 
that of thirty years ago, vividly recalls his previous experience and 
fills his heart with sadness. Thus Nature occasionally begets sorrow. 

The same truth is brought out in '' The Fountain." Here the 
streamlet with its murmuring sound recalls to Matthew happy days 
of yore, never to be lived over again. It makes him conscious of 
the flight of time and of the decay of old age, of children dead 
and of no one remaining to love him as he desires. Though the 
day be delightful and the surroundings such as would ordinarily 
bring joy to the heart and inspire the usually tuneful Matthew, the 
streamlet's music, through the subtle working of the laws of sugges- 
tion which operate in memory, fills him with a pensive melancholy. 



POETRY OF NATURE I 45 

Nature once more awakens feelings of sadness. This conception 
of her relation to Man is not merely a passing thought with Words- 
worth. We shall meet with it again in the poetry of the Grasmere 
period, in an even more pronounced form. However, it occupies a 
comparatively subordinate position in his apprehension of Nature's 
functioning in her relation to the human soul. 

In *' Ruth " Wordsworth expresses a belief similar to that already 
referred to in '* Peter Bell " — a belief that, under some circum- 
stances. Nature's influence may prove morally harmful. But he 
refers also to her healing power. This beautiful poem, which 
was a great favorite with Coleridge, was composed in Germany in 
1799, and published in 1800. According to its author, it was sug- 
gested by an account given him by a wanderer. It is a pathetic 
love story. A red-blooded, high-spirited, soldierly youth from the 
Western world wooes and weds a British maid. For a time she 
is blissfully happy, but a young man of such *' impetuous blood " 
is sometimes incited to evil by Nature herself. Her beautiful forms 
furnish food for voluptuous thought. To persons of a certain consti- 
tution or temperament danger lurks in the very heart of Nature. And 
so it was with this ''youth from Georgia's shore." The roaring 
tempest and the tumultuous tropical sky would awaken the impetu- 
osity of his own nature. Any irregularity of sights and sounds that 
would '' impart a kindred impulse " to his mind 

seemed allied 
To his own powers, and justified 
The workings of his heart.^ 

Even the beauty of Nature's fair forms contributed to sensuous 
thought. The languorous breezes communicated their own state to 
him, and the stars themselves exerted a malign influence. How- 
ever, such persons are not altogether at a moral disadvantage with 
reference to Nature. The passions which usually animate them 
are often sources of good, and productive of wholesome sentiment, 

1 Ruth, 130-133. 



146 WORDSWORTH 

because of their relation to natural beauty. They predispose toward 
morality because of their sensitiveness to Nature's salutary influ- 
ence, and the Poet thinks this may have been the case with the 

youth. 

Yet, in his worse pursuits I ween 
That sometimes there did intervene 
Pure hopes of high intent : 
For passions linked to forms so fair 
And stately needs must have their share 
Of noble sentiment.^ 

However, according to the Poet's story, notwithstanding this con- 
stitutional predisposition toward Nature's helpful influence, set over 
against a temperamental susceptibility to her harmful power, the 
youth became '' the slave of low desires " — a man without self-con- 
trol, going from bad to worse, and ultimately deserting his young 
bride, who, with a broken heart, and with reason destroyed, is soon 
committed to the madhouse. But even here Wordsworth seems 
desirous of making out a good case in favor of Nature; for he 
says that, at times, even in the midst of hours of sadness, there 
came other hours in which her sweet ministry brought something 
of healing to Ruth's wretched spirit. 

Yet sometimes milder hours she knew, 
Nor wanted sun, nor rain, nor dew, 
Nor pastimes of the May ; 
— They all were with her in her cell ; 
And a clear brook with cheerful knell 
Did o'er the pebbles play.^ 

It is evident from the poems considered above that this brief 
period spent in the little city near the Harz Forest was a fruitful 
one. Wordsworth's genius was awake, and a number of very beau- 
tiful and important poems were the result of his creative work. It 
is manifest, too, that the subject which most engrossed him was 
Nature, and especially Nature in her relation to Man. Little, if 
indeed anything, new is presented on this favorite theme save 

^ Ruth, 139-144. 2 Ibid., 199-204. 



POETRY OF NATURE 1 47 

the conception that certain places are possessed of spirits, and 
the presentation of the truth that Nature, under certain conditions, 
exerts a depressing influence on the human soul. In the main 
there is simply a repetition of certain fundamental conceptions and 
beliefs which have ruled his mind ever since the dawn of his mental 
and spiritual restoration. 

But there is evidence of still further activity of mind during this 
winter at Goslar, the results of which are far-reaching in their 
character. As Professor Knight says: ''Absence from his own 
country in that cold season, and amongst the unsympathetic 
burghers of Goslar, had a curious effect on Wordsworth. It not 
only drove him back on his former life, and stirred him up to 
memorialise the scenes and incidents of his native land, but it led 
him to think of writing his own life in verse ; and during that 
winter he blocked out the large design of 'The Recluse' (as he 
narrates at length in his preface to 'The Excursion'), and kept 
it before him as the months passed on." ^ The nature of the 
design of this elaborate work will be considered later. As we have 
already seen, poems which afterwards became incorporated as parts 
of " The Prelude " were written in Germany, and the first lines of 
this autobiographical poem were composed on his journey from 
" the melancholy walls of Goslar " to Gottingen, to visit his friend 
Coleridge, a journey which took place on February 10, 1799. After 
remaining with Coleridge about three weeks, the Wordsworths 
returned to their native land. 

Wordsworth and his sister left Germany, according to Dorothy's 
letter to Mrs. Poole, because they found it more expensive to live 
there than they had expected, if they were to enjoy " any tolerable 
advantages." They went to Sockbume to visit old friends, the 
Hutchinsons. The nine months spent here record very little of 
interest In September Wordsworth made a tour to the Lake 
District with Coleridge and his brother, John Wordsworth, appar- 
ently to indulge his love for Nature. This tour is noteworthy 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 182-183. 



148 WORDSWORTH 

because it was largely responsible for his decision to locate at Gras- 
mere. For some time he and his sister had been at a loss to know 
where to settle. This was of course a hindrance to steady work, 
so that the months spent at Sockburne were comparatively unpro- 
ductive. On this autumn excursion Coleridge, as stated by Words- 
worth in a letter to his sister, *' was much struck with Grasmere and its 
neighborhood," and apparently Wordsworth himself was impressed 
by its beauty — so much so, indeed, that he wrote to his sister say- 
ing that he contemplated building a house by the lake, and thought 
his brother John would provide the money for buying the ground. 
This soon resulted in a decision to make Grasmere their home. 

Although there is very little information concerning his life at 
Sockburne, there are indications that Wordsworth was not altogether 
idle during these months. From one of Coleridge's letters we can 
infer that he was at times busy with his metrical autobiography. 
Coleridge was ambitious to have him push forward this important 
work. In a letter dated October 12, 1799, he writes to Words- 
worth : *' I long to see what you have been doing. O let it be 
the tail-piece of ' The Recluse ' ! for of nothing but ' The Recluse ' 
can I hear patiently. That it is to be addressed to me makes me 
more desirous that it should not be a poem of itself. To be 
addressed, as a beloved man, by a thinker, at the close of such a 
poem as ' The Recluse,' a poem non unius populi, is the only event, 
I believe, capable of inciting in me an hour's vanity — vanity, nay, 
it is too good a feeling to be so called ; it would indeed be a self- 
elevation produced ab extra!' ^ It is quite probable that he worked 
on the poem in a more or less desultory fashion during his stay 
at Sockburne. 

Having decided to move to Grasmere, after securing Dove 
Cottage, Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy set out on foot for 
their future home. His letter to Coleridge describing their journey 
is a fine piece of prose — a letter that only an ardent lover of 
Nature could write. It furnishes an unusual illustration of his 

1 Memoirs, I, 159. 



POETRY OF NATURE 1 49 

remarkable powers of minute observation and description. In 
minuteness and delicacy of detail it might almost be taken for an 
extract from his sister's Journal. 

It is evident from this letter that these two journeyed to their 
new home apparently as though they were on an excursion to 
gratify an almost insatiate thirst for natural beauty. Apparently 
there was no hurry to reach their destination. They turned aside in 
quest of other sights than those which greeted them on the road. 
Now and then they stopped to look back on scenes already enjoyed. 
At all times, and on all sides, they were engaged with beauty, 
eager to drink in the loveliness of all natural forms, and in this 
letter the Poet records his observations with great minuteness. 
His attitude toward Nature on this journey is very interesting. He 
is not dealing with her so much in the large and more heroic 
aspects of her being as in the more minute and delicate manifes- 
tations, although it is evident, in his reference to the journey in 
*' The Recluse," that his interest in the former was not wanting. He 
observes and describes after the manner of a landscape artist. The 
softer and more delicate relations arrest and hold his gaze in an 
unusual manner. Furthermore, he views Nature more as a descrip- 
tive poet than as a poet of insight. It is the eye of sense that holds 
sovereign sway, rather than the vision and the gleam. He is more 
interested in the body of Nature than in her soul, in her forms 
and accidents than in her essential life. Perceptive consciousness 
predominates over imagination and spiritual intuition. This is not 
infrequently the case in his poetry also, as is manifest here and 
there in '' The Prelude " and '' The Excursion," as well as in a 
number of minor poems ; so that we have in Wordsworth both 
the descriptive poet and the poet of spiritual penetration. He sees 
Nature clothed with beauty as with a garment, and also invested 
with an inner beauty of soul. He reaps the harvest of the eager, 
luxurious eye of sense, and also of the quiet and brooding eye 
of spirit. He beholds Nature in her corporeal particularity and 
manifoldness, as well as in her essential ideality and unity. 



I50 WORDSWORTH 

These two attitudes, so often met with in Wordsworth's poetry, 
are not necessarily opposed in his case. Seldom did he rest com- 
pletely in the report of eye and ear, and compose a poem consti- 
tuting merely a minute metrical reproduction of what he had seen 
and heard. Rather did he take the contribution of sense and work 
it over with his imagination. In such instances the idealization at 
times scarcely represented anything beyond a mere artistic selec- 
tion and re-arrangement of sense materials. Such poetry did not 
reveal "the gleam," *'the vision," the interpretation — the seeing 
into the life of things. At other times, however, imagination 
would brood over the matter thus presented, and, awakened by 
mystical feeling, the vision would dawn in the form of a revelation 
of Nature's mind and heart. The careful observation manifest in 
his descriptive poetry was in a sense really a pre-condition of 
his poetry of insight. His exquisite organic sensibility, his fixed- 
ness of gaze and hearing, his close observation, seemed to superin- 
duce, either directly, or indirectly through memory, a mystical, 
idealizing mood, sometimes very light, and attended only with faint 
gleams of insight, but at other times deeper in its character, 
with fuller and more significant vision. 



CHAPTER X 
GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 

In "The Recluse "^ Wordsworth reveals the motive that impelled 
him to locate at Grasmere. He went there on Nature's invitation. 
The natural environment was so attractive, appealing so powerfully 
to his aesthetic sense, and promising such aid to his poetic mind, 
that, added to the possibilities of a simple life, it constituted a 
motive sufficiently persuasive to lead him to a decision, which, he 
says, was sanctioned by Reason also. Late in December he and 
Dorothy reached the beautiful vale, and soon were settled in a 
humble cot. Here Wordsworth entered upon what may be regarded 
as the most productive period of his life — a period in which his 
poetic genius reached the very height of its development and 
power, and gave to the world a body of verse that entitles him to 
high rank among English poets. 

If, as we have seen, he was greatly dependent upon Nature for 
inspiration and subject-matter in much of his previous poetic activity, 
this was preeminently the case in the lovely Grasmere Vale. And 
if, as was the case in his earlier poetry. Nature ministered to him 
with a loving and bountiful hand, so here, to a still greater degree, 
the very riches of her generous heart seem to have been poured 
out for his inspiration and delight, and the establishment of his 
mind and heart in wisdom and love. Here his fellowship with 
Nature, the mistress of his soul, was supreme, and in their sacred 
communion he heard her gracious heart throb, and listened to the 
deeper pulsations of her spirit. 

Many are the descriptions of the Lake District, but none as satis- 
factory as Wordsworth's ''Guide." This, however, contains very little 
material relating to Grasmere, and even that does not pertain to 
^ The real title is the " Home at Grasmere." 



152 WORDSWORTH 

natural scenery. But the poems of this period abound in descriptions 
of local surroundings, and " The Recluse '* especially shows us, 
in a general way, the loveliness of their environment. Wordsworth 
seems to be enchanted by the beauty of the vale, and, with the 
ever-faithful Dorothy by his side, he thinks that no being '' since 
the birth of man had ever more abundant cause to give thanks." 
His " boon is absolute," and to him '' surpassing grace has been 
vouchsafed." Thus, filled with appreciation, gratitude, and delight, 
he breaks forth in verse which reveals the lovely forms with which 
they are surrounded. 

Embrace me then ye Hills, and close me in, 
Now in the clear and open day I feel 
Your guardianship ; I take it to my heart ; 
'T is like the solemn shelter of the night. 
But I would call thee beautiful, for mild 
And soft, and gay, and beautiful thou art. 
Dear Valley, having in thy face a smile 
Though peaceful, full of gladness. Thou art pleased. 
Pleased with thy crags, and woody steeps, thy Lake, 
Its one green Island and its winding shores ; 
The multitude of little rocky hills. 
Thy Church and cottages of mountain stone 
Clustered like stars some few, but single most, 
And lurking dimly in their shy retreats. 
Or glancing at each other cheerful looks. 
Like separated stars with clouds between. 
What want we ? have we not perpetual streams. 
Warm woods, and sunny hills, and fresh green fields. 
And mountains not less green, and flocks, and herds, 
And thickets full of songsters, and the voice 
Of lordly birds, an unexpected sound 
Heard now and then from morn till latest eve, 
Admonishing the man who walks below 
Of solitude, and silence in the sky ? ^ 

There is something really unique in the way all this appeals to the 
Poet, calling forth a response similar to that which his soul yielded 
in the early days of Cockermouth and Hawkshead, for he adds : 

1 The Recluse, 1 10-133 ; Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 235-236. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 153 

Nowhere (or is it fancy) can be found 

The one sensation that is here ; 't is here, 

Here as it found its way into my heart 

In childhood, here as it abides by day, 

By nightj here only ; or in chosen minds 

That take it with them hence, where'er they go. 

'T is but I cannot name it, 't is the sense 

Of majesty, and beauty, and repose, 

A blended holiness of earth and sky. 

Something that makes this individual Spot, 

This small abiding-place of many men, 

A termination, and a last retreat, 

A centre come from wheresoe'er you will, 

A whole without dependence or defect. 

Made for itself ; and happy in itself. 

Perfect contentment, unity entire.^ 

Dorothy Wordsworth's Grasmere Journal is full of minute descrip- 
tions of local scenery, and records numerous excursions through 
the immediate and neighboring surroundings, all of which indicate 
the resources that Nature possessed for the Poet's soul to feed on, 
and how he availed himself of her generous bounty. Wordsworth's 
peculiar susceptibility to Nature is especially marked here in Gras- 
mere, and results in a large body of poetry having Nature as its 
fountain-head of inspiration. 

But, as heretofore. Nature was not to be the only source of his 
poetic incentive and delight. Man did not lose his hold upon the 
Poet's imagination and love. In him, too, he expects to find a 
subject for reflection, and for tuneful verse. He comes to this 
favored place with no false conceptions of Man, as though the 
majesty of his surroundings here had bred in him a like frame 
of mind. Nature at her best is not all-sufficient in the work of 
moral development. The Poet expects to find Man in this beauti- 
ful vale, as elsewhere, a mixture of good and evil. Nevertheless, 
he finds him existing here under far better conditions than in the 
city, and this itself is to be regarded as " a mighty gain." In this 

1 The^ecluse, 136-151 ; Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 236. 



154 WORDSWORTH 

quiet place the laborer is happy. Here, too, he is a freeman. No 

extremes of poverty are known, and want is not too great to be 

relieved. Here, too, 

may the heart 
Breathe in the air of fellow-suffering 
Dreadless, as in a kind of fresher breeze 
Of her own native element, the hand 
Be ready and unwearied without plea 
From tasks too frequent, or beyond its power 
For languor, or indifference, or despair. 
And as these lofty barriers break the force 
Of winds, this deep Vale, — as it doth in part» 
Conceal us from the storm, — so here abides 
A power and a protection for the mind, 
Dispensed indeed to other solitudes, 
Favoured by noble privilege like this, 
Where kindred independence of estate 
Is prevalent, where he who tills the field, 
He, happy man ! is master of the field, 
And treads the mountain which his fathers trod.^ 

To find Man thus existing added to Wordsworth's peace of mind, 
and ministered to the poetic within him. The really human aspect 
of his surroundings appealed to an imagination and heart always 
responsive to Man, and thus early, as we find in '' The Recluse," 
they are warming to the human side of his environment. He sees 
a grove of firs on the mountain side, and learns from a widowed 
dame in the cot below that it was planted by herself and her hus- 
band. A simple incident like this in the life of lowly folk stirs 
his imagination and feeling, and he asks : 

" Is there not 
An art, a music, and a strain of words 
That shall be like the acknowledged voice of life, 
Shall speak of what is done among the fields, 
Done truly there, or felt, of solid good 
And real evil, yet be sweet withal, 
More grateful, more harmonious than the breath, 
The idle breath of softest pipe attuned 

1 The Recluse, 367-383 ; Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 243. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 155 

To pastoral fancies? Is there such a stream, 

Pure and unsullied, flowing from the heart 

With motions of true dignity and grace? 

Or must we seek that stream where Man is not? 

Methinks I could repeat in tuneful verse, 

Delicious as the gentlest breeze that sounds 

Through that aerial fir-grove, could preserve 

Some portion of its human history 

As gathered from the Matron's lips, and tell 

Of tears that have been shed at sight of it, 

And moving dialogues between this pair. 

Who in their prime of wedlock, with joint hands 

Did plant the grove, now flourishing, while they 

No longer flourish, he entirely gone, 

She withering in her loneliness. Be this 

A task above my skill ; the silent mind 

Has her own treasures, and I think of these, 

Love what I see, and honour humankind." ^ 

The human side of his genius, which was rooted in the intense 
humanity of his nature, was ever seeking the human in his en- 
vironment, and usually found it, and the Poet was inspired by 
it to simple and heartfelt song. 

Thus, with Nature in this peaceful vale ministering to the eye 
and ear of sense, as well as speaking a language to the inner spirit; 
with human conditions conducive to the comfort, freedom, and self- 
respect of Man ; with the faithful and affectionate sister by his side, 
sharing his household joys, and joining in his frequent wanderings 
about the lake, through wood and field, over hills and mountains ; 
with the company of Captain John, the '' never-resting Pilgrim of 
the sea" ; and the anticipated fellowship of the Hutchinsons, the 
sisters of his heart ; and, finally, with Coleridge, the brother of his 
soul, an expected visitor, Wordsworth found himself in circum- 
stances which not only filled him with joy and gratitude, but also 
acted as a powerful incentive to his genius. 

It might be well, for the sake of convenience and clearness, to 
study Wordsworth's mental attitude, first in his smaller and less 

1 The Recluse, 401-426; Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 244, 



156 WORDSWORTH 

important poems, from the date of his settlement in Dove Cottage 
to the time of his removal from Grasmere Vale, and then in the 
larger and, in some respects, more important compositions belong- 
ing to this period. Many of the minor poems are concerned with 
Nature and Man. Concerning Nature there is a tuneful reiteration 
and elaboration of his faith, and a still further disclosure of the 
mental process involved in his mystical apprehension of the world 
of things. Two poetical fragments of this period call for only brief 
consideration. The first begins "On Nature's invitation do I come." 
It is a part of '' The Recluse." The exact date of its composition 
is uncertain, but it was probably written early in 1800, Wordsworth 
having moved to Dove Cottage during the last of December, 
1799. It states the reason for his coming to Grasmere. He was 
lured to Grasmere Vale chiefly by the beauty and loveliness of 
the country. He came on Nature's invitation, and Reason sanc- 
tioned the choice. It was not simply the man but the J^oet that 
made the decision. 

The second fragment begins, ''Bleak season was it, turbulent 
and wild." This also is part of ''The Recluse," and, like the 
previous fragment, was not published until 185 1. It refers to the 
Poet's journey on foot, with his sister Dorothy, from Sockburne to 
Grasmere. In the case of any other poet we might interpret the 
casual reference to strength drawn from Nature, and the apparent 
questionings of the naked trees and icy brooks, to mere poetic 
license in the form of anthropomorphism or personification of 
Nature, but not so in this particular instance. All of this is in 
such complete harmony with Wordsworth's conception of Nature 
in her relation to Man, that it is not forcing the interpretation 
to say that the poem is expressive of his conviction. 

A poem intimately related to this memorable journey to Gras- 
mere is " Hart-leap Well," because the story and many of the 
images were gathered at this time, Wordsworth and his sister 
having visited the well. The poem was composed in 1800, and 
published the same year. It was a favorite with Charles Lamb. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 157 

The tale that it relates was told to Wordsworth by an aged peasant. 
It is a story of a remarkable hunt, in which a knight and his party 
pursued a hart which led them a wonderful chase. Finally, with 
men and dogs exhausted, Sir Walter alone overtook the stag lying 
dead at a spring. On further examination he found the animal 
had taken three surprising leaps from the brow of a hill. Sir 
Walter, in admiration of the ''gallant stag," had a pleasure-house 
built there and a basin framed for the spring below, naming it 
Hart-leap Well. He also erected a monument of three pillars 
on the brow of the hill from which the hart leaped. Wordsworth 
makes the story an occasion for piping '* a simple song for thinking 
hearts," and Part H of the poem gives us the simple lay, the story 
of which is as follows : 

As he was passing from Hawes to Richmond he came to this 
spot, which seemed the very picture of desolation and decay. In- 
quiring of a shepherd concerning the place, he learned that it was 
once '' a jolly place," but now it is accursed because of the cruel 
chase. The Poet finds himself not far removed from the shepherd's 
way of thinking, and proceeds to state his own belief. In it he 
calls attention to the fact that the hart fell observed by Nature, and 
'' his death was mourned by sympathy divine." The Spirit that 
pervades Nature exercises a providence over the animal creation. 
The waste and gloom are peculiar in character. *' This is no 
common waste, no common gloom," says the Poet, and he affirms 
that they constitute one of Nature's ways of teaching an important 
lesson. They are a reproof to men who seek their pleasure in the 
suffering of other creatures. In due time, however, she will repair 
the place, and clothe it again with living beauty. 

This poem contains not only the usual Wordsworthian conception 
of a Spirit in Nature, but the Poet, more nearly than heretofore, 
identifies this Spirit with God, or the divine Spirit. It mourns 
with a '' sympathy divine " ; it exercises a providential care over 
the animal world. This Being, whose presence is in the clouds 
and air, and in the leaves of the groves, is a personal Being, who 



158 WORDSWORTH 

loves his (not her) unoffending creatures. Up to this time Words- 
worth has been slow to use the words " he " and " divine " in 
speaking of this Presence in Nature. In his previous references to 
the Spirit of Nature he has used the pronouns '' she " and *'her." 
Here he personifies Nature in the language used in speaking of its 
attributes, and apparently regards it as the Being whom Faith calls 
God. Speaking of its functions, it is interesting to note also that, 
whereas heretofore he has pointed out Nature's relations to so- 
called inanimate objects, and to the organic world as represented 
in plants, trees, birds, and men — making no specific reference to 
the brute world — now he calls attention to another article of his 
Nature-creed, namely, that the universal Spirit of Nature " main- 
tains a deep and reverential care" for the animal creation, ,and 
manifests disapproval when Man seeks his pleasure at the expense 
of suffering on the part of its unoffending members. 

A group of poems published under the general head of '' Poems 
on the Naming of Places " also belongs to this period. In an 
" advertisement " Wordsworth explains his object in naming 
certain places, and writing poems in consequence. He says : '' By 
Persons resident in the country and attached to rural objects, many 
places will be found unnamed, or of unknown names, where little 
Incidents will have occurred, or feelings been experienced, which 
will have given to such places a private and peculiar interest. From 
a wish to give some sort of record to such Incidents or renew the 
gratification of such Feelings, Names have been given to Places by 
the Author and some of his Friends, and the following Poems 
written in consequence." ^ 

Included in this group are the poems " It was an April morn- 
ing: fresh and clear," **To Joanna," ''There is an Eminence, 
— of these our hills," *'A narrow Girdle of rough stones and 
crags," and ''To M. H." — all of them written and published in 
1800. In these poems we have Wordsworth's nearness to Nature 
again indicated, and also his peculiar mental attitude toward her. 

1 Poetical Works, edited by W^illiam Knight, II, 153. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 159 

There is often a ravishing rapture in all that he beholds, the impres- 
sions of eye and ear pushing beyond the boundaries of sense, to sink 
deep into the Poet's heart, and to be transfigured by the imagination. 
It is not mere sensuous enjoyment and description, but idealization, 
profoundly affected by mystical feeling. There are at times decided 
indications of the vision and the gleam. This is evident in at least 
the first poem of the group, entitled '' It was an April morning : 
fresh and clear," suggested to the Poet on the banks of a wild 
and beautiful brook. *' I roamed," he says, '' up the brook 

in the confusion of my heart, 
Alive to all things and forgetting all. 
At length I to a sudden turning came 
In this continuous glen, where down a rock 
The Stream, so ardent in its course before, 
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all 
Which I till then had heard appeared the voice 
Of common pleasure : beast and bird, the lamb, 
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush, 
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song 
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth 
Or like some natural produce of the air, 
That could not cease to be." ^ 

This power to fixate the sense of sight or sound, or both, on the 
external stimulus until the object sank into the imagination, to be 
worked over into a new product, resulted, as we have already seen, 
in a kind of apprehension of Nature which is peculiar to Words- 
worth's genius. The vision then becomes the joint product of 
sense-perception and imagination, which, often suffused by mystical 
feeling, seemed to constitute that poetic insight which characterizes 
so much of his verse. In the above poem there is a tendency to 
abstract the various sounds from their objects, and fuse them into 
one song, which seemed '' like some natural produce of the air." 
Here is the unifying tendency of the mystical poet — the intuition 
of the one in many, the synthetic apprehension of the manifold 

1 It was an April morning : fresh and clear, 18-30. 



l6o WORDSWORTH 

of sound as one song, as though it were an harmonious creation of 
the natural world. 

This peculiarity of Wordsworth's poetic genius is also illustrated 
in the second poem of the group, '' To Joanna." Here the Poet 
shows the same concentration of sense, and the gradual transfigur- 
ing of its material by the imagination. On a summer morning's 
walk, accompanied by Joanna, they came into the presence of a 
tall rock on Rotha's banks. As he carefully scanned the rock he 
was delighted to find its various colors, suddenly unified by the 
synthetic force of their beauty, imaged in his heart. Joanna, noting 
his steady gaze, and beholding the ravishment in his eyes, laughed 
aloud, and her laugh echoed and reechoed through the mountains. 
Wordsworth's idealizing faculty was evidently at work with sounds, 
and, as a result, as Charles Lamb says, the mountains and all the 
scenery seemed absolutely alive. Whatever may have been the 
reality, his description indicates that his ''ear was touched with 
dreams and visionary impulses." 

In the short poem '' There is an Eminence, — of these our hills," 
there is still another example, or illustration, of Wordsworth's con- 
ception of the healing or restoring power of Nature. The eminence 
that '' rises above the road by the side of Grasmere Lake towards 

Keswick," he says, 

"often seems to send 
Its own deep quiet to restore our hearts." ^ 

The same may be said of the poem " A narrow Girdle of rough 
stones and crags." This is a poem of moral import, but it reveals 
also how Wordsworth's daily life seemed to be in close touch 
with Nature. To commune with her was apparently his daily bread. 
The poem "To M. H." — to Mary Hutchinson, his future wife 
— is a description of a nook which was named for her. The power- 
ful impression that Nature, even in her less imposing forms, makes 
upon the Poet is manifest here also. ''If," he says, in speaking 
of this sequestered spot, 

1 There is an Eminence, — of these our hills, 7-8. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE i6l 

" a man should plant his cottage near, 
Should sleep beneath the shelter of its trees, 
And blend its waters with his daily meal, 
He would so love it, that in his death-hour 
Its image would survive among his thoughts." ^ 

It is important that the student of Wordsworth should note such 
lines as these, if he would understand that deep, abiding, and at 
times almost all-possessing power of Nature in his soul. A man 
thus attached to Nature, if he could sing the Poet's song at all, 
must needs make her its subject. 

In the next poem to be considered, Wordsworth again calls atten- 
tion to the fact that the beauty and joyousness of Nature may at 
times be even directly the source of pain and grief. There is a 
mood in which her beautiful forms seem unbearable. They seem 
to accentuate the sadness and melancholy of the soul. A true 
psychology of this mood may be found in the law of suggestion by 
contrast. It is the mood expressed in Burns's famous ballad '' Ye 
Banks and Braes." The Scottish bard is made almost insufferably 
sad by Nature's beauty, because it reminds him of departed joys. 

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ? 
How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
And I sae weary fu' o' care ? 
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, 
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn : 
Thou minds me o' departed joys, 
Departed never to return. ^ 

Wordsworth closely approached this mood in '"T is said, that some 
have died for love," but, if we be not mistaken, there is a slight 
difference in the way in which Nature intensifies the man's sorrow. 
It is not so much because she recalls former happiness, as that by 
her beauty and freshness she furnishes a contrast to his own melan- 
choly condition of mind. The man in his lamentation over his dead 

1 To M. H., 18-22. 2 Bums, Ye Banks and Braes, 1-8. 



1 62 WORDSWORTH 

Love finds Nature anything but a comforter. She aggravates his 
sorrow, and he breaks forth : 

" Oh, move, thou Cottage, from behind that oak ! 

Or let the aged tree uprooted lie, 

That in some other way yon smoke 

May mount into the sky ! 

The clouds pass on ; they from the heavens depart : 

I look — the sky is empty space ; 

I know not what I trace ; 

But when I cease to look, my hand is on my heart. 

" O ! what a weight is in these shades ! Ye leaves, 

That murmur once so dear, when will it cease ? 

Your sound my heart of rest bereaves, 

It robs my heart of peace. 

Thou Thrush, that singest loud — and loud and free, 

Into yon row of willows flit. 

Upon that alder sit ; 

Or sing another song, or choose another tree. 

" Roll back, sweet Rill ! back to thy mountain-bounds, 

And there for ever be thy waters chained ! 

For thou dost haunt the air with sounds 

That cannot be sustained ; 

If still beneath that pine-tree's ragged bough 

Headlong yqn waterfall must come. 

Oh let it then be dumb ! 

Be anything, sweet Rill, but that which thou art now. 

" Thou Eglantine, so bright with sunny showers, 

Proud as a rainbow spanning half the vale, 

Thou one fair shrub, oh ! shed thy flowers, 

And stir not in the gale. 

For thus to see thee nodding in the air, 

To see thy arch thus stretch and bend, 

Thus rise and thus descend, — 

Disturbs me till the sight is more than I can bear.^ 

Although these words must be read '* in character," still we have been 
prepared for them in the poem " The Two April Mornings." If 

1 'Tis said, that some have died for love, 13-44. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 163 

it cannot be said, with Professor Knight, that Wordsworth appre- 
ciated this mood ** as fully as the opposite, or complementary one, 
which finds expression in the great * Ode. Intimations of Immor- 
tality,' " ^ it can at least be said that he was alive to the fact that 
there are moods in which Nature may prove to be something other 
than a source of joy — in which, indeed, she can become a real source 
of pain and sorrow, disturbing and oppressing the soul. This is 
not an uncommon mood with poets. We have found it in Bums. 
Tennyson, too, was subject to it. With him 

Tears from the depth of some divine despair 
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, 
And thinking of the days that are no more.^ 

It is also manifest in his pathetic little poem '' Break, break, 
break," where the sight of the sea seems to superinduce the mood : 

Break, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! 
And I would that my tongue could utter 

The thoughts that arise in me. 

O well for the fisherman's boy, 
That he shouts with his sister at play ! 

O well for the sailor lad, 
That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 

And the stately ships go on 

To their haven under the hill ; 
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, 

And the sound of a voice that is still ! 

Break, break, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come back to me. 

It may be found also in Browning, as, for example, in his lyric 
entitled '* May and Death" : 

1 Poetical Works, II, 181 n. 2 xhe Princess. 



1 64 WORDSWORTH 

I wish that when you died last May, 
Charles, there had died along with you 

Three parts of Spring's delightful things ; 
Ay, and, for me, the fourth part too. 

Coleridge once said concerning the words, 

" and that uncertain heaven received 
Into the bosom of the steady lake," 

to be found in the poem '* There was a Boy," that he should have 
recognized them anywhere, and adds, '' Had I met these lines 
running wild in the deserts of Arabia, I should have instantly 
screamed out ' Wordsworth i ' " i The same thing might be said of 
the poem *' To the Cuckoo." It is preeminently a characteristic 
poem. The idealizing, visionary character of the Poet's genius is 
revealed in it. The tendency to unsubstantialize the corporeal, to 
abstract the quality from the object, and universalize it is very 
marked. Here sound is abstracted from the bird, and is conceived 
of merely as a '' wandering voice." The cuckoo loses its identity 
— its substantial reality — and its song becomes the thing 
considered. But it becomes an incorporeal, *' visionary thing," 
**a voice," ''a mystery." The particularity of sense is lost in 
the universality or abstract generality of the mystical imagination. 
The real subject is canceled, and the attribute is made the subject. 
And this mystical idealization does not stop here, but the trance 
becomes still deeper, until the corporeal world of sense recedes 
under the spell of the cuckoo's voice, and the solid earth itself be- 
comes an unsubstantial place. The peculiar vision and gleam that 
were with him in his boyhood are still with him, and his ethereal 
conception of Nature is without doubt largely attributable to the 
mystical dream. If this poem be carefully read, it will be noticed 
that, first, the sense of sound is arrested by the cuckoo's voice. 
Immediately the process of abstraction seems to begin, and the 
substantial object of sense gradually fades away, the cuckoo's 
note alone becoming the reality. But it is no longer a definitely 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 184. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 165 

localized affair. There is a mysterious, invisible everywhereness 
about it. It seems to pass from hill to hill. It is '' at once far off, 
and near." It seems to be merely a widely diffused voice. Under 
its spell consciousness becomes more and more dreamy and vision- 
ary, until the solid earth of normal sense perception is transformed 
into '' an unsubstantial fairy place " — a subjective world, appar- 
ently of the mind's own creation, but superinduced by actual sense 
impressions in the form of the cuckoo's notes. By some strange 
psychologic alchemy an ideal world is created, which supplants 
the world commonly recognized as real. 

In the poem ''To the Daisy," written in 1802 and published 
in 1807, Wordsworth continues to speak of Nature's ministry to 
himself. In various ways her kindly offices are performed through 
this common but beautiful flower of the fields, which is ''by many 
a claim " the Poet's darling. This little flower banishes melancholy. 

To it he owes 

Some apprehension ; 
Some steady love ; some brief delight ; 
Some memory that had taken flight ; 
Some chime of fancy wrong or right ; 

Or stray invention.^ 

But it ministers to his moral nature also, teaching him sympathy, 
humility, and wisdom. In words like the following we see again 
how far from correct is Lord Morley's interpretation of Wordsworth 
when he affirms that in poetry like this, where he represents Nature 
as teaching moral lessons, he is merely giving utterance to a charm- 
ing fancy : 

If stately passions in me burn, 

And one chance look to Thee should turn, 

I drink out of an humbler urn 

A lowlier pleasure ; 
The homely S3nnpathy that heeds 
The common life our nature breeds ; 
A wisdom fitted to the needs 

Of hearts at leisure.^ 

1 To the Daisy, 44-48. 2 ibid., 49-56. 



1 66 WORDSWORTH 

At morn this little flower brings gladness to his soul, its cheer- 
fulness and rest breeding in him a corresponding temper, and oft, 
at evening, it has eased the burden of his heart. 

Fresh-smitten by the morning ray, 
When thou art up, alert and gay, 
Then, cheerful Flower ! my spirits play 

With kindred gladness : 
And when, at dusk, by dews opprest 
Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest 
Hath often eased my pensive breast 

Of careful sadness.^ 

Indeed, there is a further obligation that he owed to this flower of 
the summer fields. 

An instinct call it, a blind sense ; 
A happy, genial influence. 
Coming one knows not how, nor whence, 
Nor whither going.^ 

This is no exaggeration of Nature's influence upon Wordsworth. 
One who studies his history will be impressed by this sensitiveness 
and susceptibility of the Poet to the smaller and less pretentious 
forms of Nature. That which in another poet might seem to be 
affectation or poetic exaggeration is in Wordsworth but the natural 
expression of a daily experience. A daisy speaks in divers ways 
to his soul. It breathes words of love and solace, of cheer and 
wisdom, to a heart peculiarly receptive and in close sympathy 
with any message it may utter. He understands Nature's speech, 
whether it be uttered by the flower of the field, or by the mighty 
suns and systems that roll in space. All forms of Nature have a 
message for him. Often it is merely personal in character, but 
often, too, it is so important, in the Poet's judgment, as to take on 
the form of a message to others, and, because of his poetic insight 
and gift of song, he feels himself a chosen instrument to proclaim 
it to the world. The proclamation of his belief becomes ''oracular." 

1 To the Daisy, 57-64. 2 ibid., 69-72. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 167 

A number of short poems — the majority of which, to use 
a phrase of Wordsworth, are "breathings of simple nature" — 
were written at Grasmere between the years 1801 and 1805 
— the year memorable for the completion of "The Prelude." 
Among them are "The Sparrow's Nest," "To a Butterfly," "The 
sun has long been set," "My heart leaps up when I behold," "The 
Redbreast chasing the Butterfly," "To the Small Celandine," 
"To the Same Flower," the well-known sonnet — " It is a beau- 
teous Evening, calm and free," two more poems to the daisy, 
"The Green Linnet," "Yew-Trees," "At the Grave of Burns," 
" Thoughts suggested the Day following, on the Banks of Nith, 
near the Poet's Residence," "To a Highland Girl," "The Solitary 
Reaper," "Yarrow Unvisited," "I wandered lonely as a cloud," 
" The Kitten and Falling Leaves," " The Small Celandine," and 
"To a Sky-Lark." In some of these poems there is little more 
than descriptive poetry. The deeper emotional nature does not 
predominate. When this is the case, the description is both beau- 
tiful and accurate. As Professor Raleigh says : "His descriptions 
never stray far from the object before him, and sometimes are the 
work of the most delicate observation. The poem on ' The Green 
Linnet ' was praised by Coleridge for its accurate loveliness : — 

Amid yon tuft of hazel trees, 
That twinkle to the gusty breeze, 
Behold him perched in ecstasies, 

Yet seeming still to hover ; 
There ! where the flutter of his wings 
Upon his back and body flings 
Shadows and sunny glimmerings, 

That cover him all over.^ 

Beauties like this are most frequent in his least ambitious poems, 
where his mind plays at ease and has time for observation. When 
his heart is deeply stirred the description is almost drowned in 
the emotion." ^ 

1 The Green Linnet, 25-32. * Raleigh, Wordsworth, 151. 



1 68 WORDSWORTH 

But among these '' breathings of simple nature '* there are 
some that bear also marks of the Poet's deeper insight, and in 
others we have at least hints at his general Nature-faith. In 
'* The Solitary Reaper," for example, is seen the tendency, 
noted elsewhere, to abstract attributes from their objects, or func- 
tions from their agents, and, delocalizing them, to conceive of 
them as realities, and to render them practically ubiquitous. 
Sounds first heard by the ear of sense penetrate deep into the 
Poet's heart and, by a strange, mystical, psychical process, are 
transformed from particular and local impressions of sense into 
sounds without '*a local habitation and a name," as was noted in 
the case of Joanna's laugh, and the cuckoo's twofold shout. In 
'' The Solitary Reaper " it is the maiden's song, as she reaps and 
binds the grain, that fills the vale to overflowing. 

Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 
And sings a melancholy strain ; 
O listen ! for the Vale profound 
Is overflowing with the sound.^ 

Only a mystical poet could apprehend such a sound as filling the 
entire vale, as though the very atmosphere were vibrant with it. 

In the two poems referring to Burns may be found some of 
Wordsworth's fundamental teaching concerning Nature. They 
were written in 1803, while he was making a tour in Scotland with 
Dorothy and Coleridge. He very naturally visited the grave of 
Burns, and it was natural, too, that he should be inspired to sing 
of the dead poet, with whom, though so unlike, he had, neverthe- 
less, much in common. Neighbors they were, and loving friends 
they might have been. Both were children of Nature, both loved 
Nature, and both sang of Nature. In the second poem Words- 
worth recognizes that Burns was schooled by Nature — that the 
soul of the poet was fashioned by her art — and he asks by what 
rules she trains a mind like this in a manner far transcending the 
art of the schools. 

1 The Solitary Reaper, 5-8. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 169 

Proud thoughts that Image overawes, 
Before it humbly let us pause, 
And ask of Nature from what cause 

And by what rules 
She trained her Bums to win applause 

That shames the Schools.^ 

In the poem " I wandered lonely as a cloud," composed in 

1804, is seen how Wordsworth apprehends Nature as joyous, and 
also how her joy is soon reflected in him. Just as his heart leaps 
up when he beholds a rainbow in the sky, so, when he sees ten 
thousand dancing daffodils more gleeful than the sparkling waves 
dancing beside them, they awaken in him an irresistible joy. '' A 
poet," he says, '' could not but be gay, in such a jocund company." 
But there is here, also, another example of his mystical idealiza- 
tion — the usual intense observation, then the mental representation 
or memory image, followed by pensive brooding, and transfiguration. 

I gazed — and gazed — but little thought 
What wealth the show to me had brought : 

For oft when on my couch I lie 
In vacant or in pensive mood. 
They flash upon that inward eye 
Which is the bliss of solitude ; 
And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils.^ 

In a Fenwick note, the third and fourth lines of the preceding 
stanza are attributed to Mrs. Wordsworth. However, the poet has 
appropriated them in such a manner as to make them thoroughly 
his own. They express his own sentiment, and illustrate his poet- 
ical method of dealing with Nature. 

A striking example of Nature's influence on Wordsworth is given 
in *' Elegiac Verses," a poem written in memory of his brother. 
Captain John Wordsworth, whose ship was wrecked February 6, 

1805, the Captain going down with the craft. Wordsworth, who 

^ Thoughts suggested the Day following, on the Banks of Nith, etc., 37-42. 
2 I wandered lonely as a cloud, 17-24. 



I70 WORDSWORTH 

was deeply attached to his brother, was greatly shocked and sad- 
dened by the disaster. In a previous poem, " Elegiac Stanzas," 
his state of mind is apparent. He says, 

" A power is gone, which nothing can restore ; 
A deep distress hath humanised my Soul," ^ 

and adds, 

" The feeling of niy loss will ne'er be old."^ 

In similar vein he tells of his profound loss in a letter to a friend, 
which also reveals how dear the brothers were to each other. 
" For myself, I feel that there is something cut out of my life 
which cannot be restored. I never thought of him but with hope 
and delight. We looked forward to the time, not distant, as we 
thought, when he would settle near us — when the task of his life 
would be over, and he would have nothing to do but reap his 
reward. By that time I hoped also that the chief part of my labours 
would be executed, and that I should be able to show him that he 
had not placed a false confidence in me. I never wrote a line with- 
out a thought of giving him pleasure ; my writings, printed and 
manuscript, were his delight, and one of the chief solaces of his 
long voyages." ^ But what helps him bear such a profound grief ? 
In this great misfortune he finds relief through the ministrations 
of a little flower ; its beauty and grace seem to contribute to his 
comfort and peace : 

That was indeed a parting ! oh, 

Glad am I, glad that it is past ; 

For there were some on whom it cast 

Unutterable woe. 

But they as well as I have gains ; — 

From many a humble source, to pains 

Like these, there comes a mild release ; 

Even here I feel it, even this Plant 

Is in its beauty ministrant 

To comfort and to peace.* 

^ Elegiac Stanzas, 35-36. ^ Myers, William Wordsworth, 70. 

* Ibid., 39. * Elegiac Verses, 41-50. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 171 

It was really remarkable how Wordsworth apparently linked all 
things with Nature. As one reads the poem " The Kitten and 
Falling Leaves," telling of Wordsworth and his infant Dora watch- 
ing a kitten as it leaped up to catch the falling leaves, one is really 
amazed at the manner in which the Poet associates apparently 
insignificant things with Nature's power. Wordsworth was con- 
scious of this fact, and there was evidently conviction and method 
in his art, for we find in a note in Henry Crabb Robinson's 
'' Diary, Reminiscences, and Correspondence," bearing the date of 
September 10, 18 16, that Wordsworth '' quoted from ' The Kitten 
and Falling Leaves ' to show he had connected even the kitten 
with the great, awful, and mysterious powers of Nature." The 
poem speaks for itself on this point: 

Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell 
In the impenetrable cell 
Of the silent heart which Nature 
Furnishes to every creature ; 
Whatsoe'er we feel and know 
Too sedate for outward show, 
Such a light of gladness breaks, 
Pretty Kitten ! from thy freaks, — 
Spreads with such a living grace 
O'er my Uttle Dora's face.^ 

The poems thus far considered in this chapter represent the 
greater part of Wordsworth's work between 1800 and 1805 — 
unusually fertile years — with the possible exception of the work 
done on *' The Prelude." There is, however, an interesting piece 
of prose belonging to the year 1805, in the form of a letter relating 
to landscape gardening, that ought to be introduced here, as it 
illustrates in a unique way some of Wordsworth's fundamental 
conceptions of, and attitudes toward. Nature, and reveals in another 
way the functioning of his aesthetic nature. Sir George Beaumont, 
a landscape painter, had his country-seat at Coleorton and was 
at this time rebuilding Coleorton Hall, and laying out the grounds. 

1 The Kitten and Falling Leaves, 95-104. 



172 WORDSWORTH 

This work was the occasion of an exchange of opinions in the 
correspondence between Wordsworth and Sir George "on the 
principles of beauty in Houses, Parks, and Gardens." ^ In a letter 
written by the Poet from Grasmere, October 17, 1805, he gives, 
at considerable length, his views on landscape architecture. They 
show that his beliefs concerning Nature constituted for him not 
merely a poetic but also a practical creed, and reveal how thoroughly 
he was possessed of the idea of Nature as animated by spirit. 

The principles which Wordsworth lays down for observance in 
the art of gardening are, first, that we must not build a mansion 
regardless of its natural surroundings. Nature should be consulted 
when we must thus interfere with her preserves, and only that 
should be done which good taste can sanction. The Poet is not in 
sympathy with the system in vogue in his time, and favors getting 
back to the simplicity of Nature, preserving much of her wild 
beauty. Nothing should be attempted which she cannot appropriate 
or adopt. '' Let Nature be all in all, taking care that everything 
done by man shall be in the way of being adopted by her." We 
should accept her leadership, take hints from her, and try to com- 
plete her plans. In laying out grounds we ought to appeal to, and 
try to move the affections of, men and women of good sense — 
those who have the deepest perception of Nature's beauty. Nature 
tries to reach such, and she ought to be assisted in this respect. 
''AH just and solid pleasure in natural objects rests upon two 
pillars, God and Man. Laying out grounds, as it is called, may be 
considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting : 
and its object, like that of all the liberal arts, is, or ought to be, 
to move the affections under the control of good sense ; that is, 
those of the best and wisest : but, speaking with more precision, 
it is to assist Nature in moving the affections, and, surely, as I 
have said, the affections of those who have the deepest perception 
of the beauty of Nature ; who have the most valuable feelings, that 
is, the most permanent, the most independent, the most ennobling, 

1 Memoirs, I, 344. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 



173 



connected with Nature and human Hfe. No Hberal art aims merely 
at the gratification of an individual or a class ; the painter or poet 
is degraded in proportion as he does so ; the true servants of the 
Arts pay homage to the human kind as impersonated in unwarped 
and enlightened minds. If this be so when we are merely putting 
together words or colours, how much more ought the feeling to 
prevail when we are in the midst of the realities of things ; of the 
beauty and harmony, of the joy and happiness of loving creatures ; 
of men and children, of birds and beasts, of hills and streams, 
and trees and flowers; with the changes of night and day, eve- 
ning and morning, summer and winter ; and all their unwearied 
actions and energies, as benign in the spirit that animates them 
as they are beautiful and grand in that form and clothing which 
is given to them for the delight of our senses." ^ 

Close to Nature as this letter shows the Poet to be, and jealous 
for her beauty and leadership, it also indicates how close he is 
to Man, and how much he is interested in his welfare. Accord- 
ing to Wordsworth the establishment of great country-seats ought 
not to be accomplished at the expense of banishing men from the 
neighborhood. '' What then shall we say of many great mansions 
with their unqualified expulsion of human creatures from their 
neighbourhood, happy or not ; houses, which do what is fabled of 
the upas tree, — breathe out death and desolation ! I know you 
will feel with me here, both as a man and a lover and professor 
of the arts. I was glad to hear from Lady Beaumont that you did 
not think of removing your village. Of course much here will 
depend upon circumstances, above all, with what kind of inhab- 
itants, from the nature of the employments in that district, the 
village is likely to be stocked. But, for my part, strip my neighbour- 
hood of human beings, and I should think it one of the greatest 
privations I could undergo. You have all the poverty of solitude, 
nothing of its elevation. In a word, if I were disposed to write a 
sermon ( and this is something like one ) upon the subject of taste 

1 Memoirs, I, 350-351. 



174 WORDSWORTH 

in natural beauty, I should take for my text the little pathway in 
Lowther woods, and all which I had to say would begin and end in 
the human heart, as under the direction of the Divine Nature, 
conferring value on the objects of the senses, and pointing out 
what is valuable in them." ^ 

The year 1806 was a productive year. This is indicated by a 
number of poems, especially sonnets, which also are ** simple 
breathings of Nature," and in which Wordsworth shows himself 
to be still in close fellowship with her. The group of Nature-poems 
of this year includes another cuckoo poem, *'Yes, it was the 
mountain Echo." Here the cuckoo's ** two-fold shout " still has a 
charm for the Poet. In connection with it a suggestion is brought 
out, born of his mystical consciousness, to which the cuckoo's song 
so often appealed. Does not mortal life also hear two voices? 
One is of the earth and is heard by sense, but the other is heard 
by the inward ear and speaks of immortality. We have answers, 
or echoes, from '' beyond the grave," and to these we should harken, 
for they are of God. Wordsworth brings this suggestion before us 
in the last three verses of the poem, after contrasting the echo of 
the cuckoo's song with the song itself, the latter being " like her 
ordinary cry, . . . but oh, how different ! " 

Hears not also mortal Life? 
Hear not we, unthinking Creatures ! 
Slaves of folly, love, or strife — 
Voices of two different natures ? 

Have not we too ? — yes, we have 
Answers, and we know not whence ; 
Echoes from beyond the grave, 
Recognised intelligence ! 

Such rebounds our inward ear 
Catches sometimes from afar — 
Listen, ponder, hold them dear ; 
For of God, — of God they are.^ 

1 Memoirs, I, 351-352. 2 y^s, it was the mountain Echo, 9-20. 



GRASMERE. POEMS OF NATURE 175 

Other poems showing the Poet's intimacy with Nature are the 
sonnets '' Admonition," *' Beloved Vale ! I said, when I shall 
con," ''With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the sky," 
and the well-known sonnet '' The world is too much with us ; late 
and soon." In the famous sonnet last mentioned he enters a pro- 
test against our preoccupation with social and business cares, and 
our indifference to the resources which Nature offers to the human 
spirit. It also indicates how much Wordsworth valued her as a 
refuge for his own soul. 

The world is too much with us ; late and soon, 
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers : 
Little we see in Nature that is ours ; 
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon ! 
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; 
The winds that will be howling at all hours, 
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers ; 
For this, for everything, we are out of tune ; 
It moves us not. — Great God ! I 'd rather be 
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; 
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, 
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; 
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ; 
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. 

Two more Nature-sonnets of this year are entitled '' Brook ! 
whose society the Poet seeks," and ''There is a little unpre- 
tending Rill. " In the former the very familiar conception of 
Nature as pervaded by a Spirit life is again brought out. Were 
our Poet to typify the brook, he would not, like Grecian artists, 
give her human fleshly form. She should be no naiad. Something 
nobler than this should constitute the type, or symbol, of the spar- 
kling stream whose society the poet and the painter seek. 

It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee 
With purer robes than those of flesh and blood, 
And hath bestowed on thee a safer good ; 
Unwearied joy, and life without its cares.^ 

1 Brook ! whose society the Poet seeks, 11-14. 



1 76 WORDSWORTH 

It must be evident to every one who reads these Nature-poems, 
written during the first years spent in Grasmere, that we have in 
Wordsworth a soul enjoying closest companionship with a revered 
and much-loved Mistress, who ministers unto him out of the abun- 
dance of her riches. Daily he sits at her board and partakes of a 
bountiful repast. Sometimes the food merely satisfies his appetite 
of sense ; the eye and ear are ever alert to feed upon the beauty 
of the vale. But often she ministers to a more refined taste, and 
his soul feeds on the deeper spiritual beauty of the natural world, 
as seen in this most favored spot. At times he seems to see and 
hear all that field and wood, mountain and lake, afford, and indulges 
in the delights of a ravished sense ; again, he sits down in '' a wise 
passiveness " of soul and receives, through his spiritual eye and 
ear, the lessons which his great Teacher imparts. The heavens 
and the earth speak to him, and he understands their language, and 
interprets it to others in the beauty and melody of song. Verily, 
as poet, during these delightful years, he is the high priest of 
Nature, and as he stands before her altar, he reverently proclaims 
her message of solace and healing, of joy and love, of truth and 
wisdom, to a needy world. 



CHAPTER XI 

GRASMERE (CONTINUED). "THE BROTHERS." "MICHAEL." 

"RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE." "THE AFFLICTION 

OF MARGARET ." POLITICAL SONNETS 

Preoccupied with Nature as Wordsworth undoubtedly was during 
the five years since entering Grasmere Vale, nevertheless Man also 
received earnest and affectionate consideration. He was a subject 
too dear to be neglected, and, as we have seen in " The Recluse," 
just after the Poet had settled in Dove Cottage, he saw men here 
under conditions far more hopeful than those of the city, and there- 
fore looked upon them with expectancy, believing that in them also 
he should find a source of fellowship, and a subject for his simple 
song. An examination of the poetry of these years shows that his 
expectations were realized, for there are a number of poems which 
manifest the human side of the Poet's nature as open and sensi- 
tive to the human side of his environment. 

These poems may be divided into two classes — those dealing 
with men in their essential nature as men, and those dealing with 
men as living under certain social conditions, and organized under 
political government. The first class bear the real Wordsworthian 
marks. He proves to be ''a faithful painter of rural manners " 
and a true delineator of those passions that constitute our funda- 
mental life. Paternal love, for example, is the theme of his song 
in *' The Childless Father," where poor old Timothy, across whose 
threshold a coffin bearing his lost child had recently passed, arouses 
himself from his grief and responds to the call of the chase, going 
forth to the fray '' with a tear on his cheek." Again, '' The 
Brothers " is a simple, pathetic tale of fraternal love. Between two 
orphans there exists a love which is a benediction to behold. The 
older brother leaves home to follow the sea, in order that he may 

177 



178 WORDSWORTH 

be of more service to the younger. After many years he returns. 
He does not venture to inquire for his brother, but visits the country 
churchyard. He knows the spot where his parents are buried. He 
finds another grave and is left in mingled doubt, apprehension, and 
hope. The village priest appears, and the stranger asks the history 
of some of the graves. This leads the priest to tell the story of 
the orphans, and it is not long before the stranger learns of his 
brother's death. At the close of the tale the vicar invites him to 
partake of his hospitality, but his heart is too full. He goes to a 
neighboring town and writes to the priest revealing his identity. 
This simple story, having its basis in fact, illustrates the nature of 
Wordsworth's genius. He seizes upon a few facts involving the 
basal affections, as manifest in these simple people, which furnish 
a foundation for poetic idealization. Many of his poems are ideal- 
ized biography of rustic folk, in which the Poet shows a profound 
reverence for Man as Man. As he came in contact with these 
rural people he found them possessed of strong attachments and 
deep feeling. He observed the domestic affections to be especially 
intense. It was his aim in this simple, pathetic poem, as well as 
in others, to give an illustration of them as he knew they existed 
among the people in the North of England. 

A pastoral poem of similar import, and written about the same 
time, is entitled '' Michael." It also has a basis in fact, and here 
we find Wordsworth again drawing a picture of domestic affection 
as he found it existing among people in certain parts of the North. 
He introduces an interesting bit of mental history before entering 
upon his story. It illustrates once more how he was led to Man 
by the hand of Nature. He says : 

"It was the first 
Of those domestic tales that spake to me 
Of Shepherds, dwellers in the valleys, men 
Whom I already loved ; — not verily 
For their own sakes, but for the fields and hills 
Where was their occupation and abode. 
And hence this Tale, while I was yet a Boy 



"THE BROTHERS" AND "MICHAEL" 179 

Careless of books, yet having felt the power 

Of Nature, by the gentle agency 

Of natural objects, led me on to feel 

For passions that were not my own, and think 

(At random and imperfectly indeed) 

On man, the heart of man, and human life." ^ 

The subject of the tale is an aged shepherd who lived in Gras- 
mere Vale. His only child, a son, had been his hope and joy from 
infancy. When the boy had reached the age of eighteen, owing to 
pecuniary misfortune, it was deemed wise to send him to a kinsman 
in the city, in the hope that he might be able to retrieve his parents' 
loss. Before the boy left home, his father took him to a dell in the 
mountains, where they had carried stone to build a sheepfold. 
Here the father told his son the story of his love for him from 
birth, and gave him wholesome counsel. He asked him to lay the 
comer stone of the sheepfold, which would serve as a memorial of 
this sacred hour. But, alas ! the young man failed to profit by it, 
and soon dishonored his father's love. Soon after reaching the city 
he gave himself up to evil ways, which resulted in moral disaster. 
Finally, he was driven '' to seek a hiding-place beyond the seas." 
The father, broken-hearted, but sustained by the power of his love, 
survived seven years after learning of his son's downfall. He con- 
tinued building the sheepfold, but sank into his grave before com- 
pleting the work, and the place, which, to him and his ancestors, 
had been for generations the object of affection and toil, soon 
became the property of strangers. 

This simple tale is another portrayal of human love — the deep, 
constant, abiding love of a man in humble station for his offspring. 
" Michael " and " The Brothers " were both written for a pur- 
pose. An earnest, ethical aim lies back of them, which, when 
understood, reveals Wordsworth's deep regard and concern for 
human nature. This is brought out in a letter from the Poet to 
Charles James Fox, written in 1802. He was much pleased with 

^ Michael, 21-33. 



l8o WORDSWORTH 

Fox's *' sensibility of heart" as manifested in his '' public character." 
He decided to send him a copy of the second edition of the 
*' Lyrical Ballads," simply because these poems were contained in 
it. In doing so, he says : 

'' It appears to me that the most calamitous effect which has 
followed the measures, which have lately been pursued in this 
country, is a rapid decay of the domestic affections among the 
lower orders of society. This effect the present Rulers of this 
country are not conscious of, or they disregard it. For many years 
past, the tendency of society amongst almost all the nations of 
Europe has been to produce it. But recently, by the spreading of 
manufactures through every part of the country, by the heavy taxes 
upon postage, by work-houses. Houses of Industry, and the inven- 
tion of Soup Shops, &c., &c., — superadded to the increasing dis- 
proportion between the price of labour and that of the necessaries 
of life, — the bonds of domestic feeling, as far as the influence of 
these things has extended, have been weakened, and, in innumer- 
able instances, entirely destroyed. The evil would be the less to 
be regretted, if these institutions were regarded as palliatives to a 
disease ; but the vanity and pride of their promoters is so subtly 
interwoven with them that they are deemed great discoveries and 
blessings to humanity. In the meantime, parents are separated from 
their children, and children from their parents ; the wife no longer 
prepares with her own hands a meal for her husband, the produce 
of his labour ; there is little doing in his house about which his 
affections can be interested, and but little left in it which he can love. 
I have two neighbours, a man and his wife, both upwards of eighty 
years of age — they live alone ; the husband has been confined to 
his bed many months, and has never had, nor till within these few 
weeks has ever needed, anybody to attend to him but his wife. 
She has recently been seized with a lameness, which has often 
prevented her from being able to carry his food to his bed, the 
neighbours fetch water for her from the well, and do other kind 
offices for them both ; but her infirmities increase. She told my 



"THE BROTHERS" AND "MICHAEL" i8l 

servant two days ago that she was afraid they must both be boarded 
out amongst some other Poor of the parish ; (they have long been 
supported by the parish), but she said it was hard, after having 
kept house together so many years, to come to this, and she was 
sure * that it would burst her heart.' I mention this fact to show 
how deeply the spirit of independence is, even yet, rooted in some 
parts of the country. These people could not express themselves 
in this way without an almost sublime conviction of the blessings 
of independent domestic life. If it is true, as I believe, that this 
spirit is rapidly disappearing, no greater curse can befal a land. 

'' I earnestly entreat your pardon for having detained you so 
long. In the two poems, ''The Brothers " and '' Michael," I have 
attempted to draw a picture of the domestic affections, as I know 
they exist amongst a class of men who are now almost confined to 
the North of England. They are small, independent proprietors 
of land, here called Statesmen, men of respectable education, 
who daily labour in their own little properties. The domestic affec- 
tions will always be strong among men who live in districts not 
crowded with population, if these men are placed above poverty. 
But if they are proprietors of small estates which have descended 
to them from their ancestors, the power which these affections will 
acquire among such men is inconceivable by those who have only 
had an opportunity of observing hired labourers, farmers, and the 
manufacturing poor. Their little tract of land serves as a kind of 
permanent rallying point for their domestic feelings, as a table 
upon which they are written, which makes them objects of memory 
in a thousand instances, when they would otherwise be forgotten. 
It is a fountain fitted to the nature of social man, from which 
supplies of affection, as pure as his heart was intended for, are 
daily drawn. This class of men is rapidly disappearing. 

'*You, sir, have a consciousness, upon which every good man 
will congratulate you, that the whole of your public conduct has, 
in one way or other, been directed to the preservation of this class 
of men and those who hold similar situations. You have felt that 



1 82 WORDSWORTH 

the most sacred of all property is the property of the poor. The 
two poems which I have mentioned were written with a view to 
show that men who do not wear fine clothes can feel deeply. 
''Pectus enim est quod disertos facit, et vis mentis. Ideoque imperi- 
tis quoque si modo sint aliquo affectu concitatiy verba non desuntJ 

" The poems are faithful copies from nature, and I hope, what- 
ever effect they may have upon you, you will at least be able to 
perceive that they may excite profitable sympathies in many kind 
and good hearts, and may in some small degree enlarge our feel- 
ings of reverence for our species, and our knowledge of human 
nature, by showing that our best qualities are possessed by some 
whom we are too apt to consider, not with reference to the points 
in which they resemble us, but to those in which they manifestly 
differ from us. I thought, at a time when these feelings are sapped 
in so many ways, that the two poems might co-operate, however 
feebly, with the illustrious efforts which you have made to stem 
this and other evils, with which the country is labouring; and it 
is on this account alone that I have taken the liberty of thus 
addressing you." ^ 

This letter reveals a heart beating in sympathy for the humbler 
classes of society, and a conviction that the best elements of our 
nature may be found there. Furthermore, it shows how much of 
Wordsworth's poetry was grounded in an earnest purpose to utilize 
his powers for their betterment, and therefore for the betterment 
of his country. No great English poet, with the possible exceptions 
of Spenser, Milton, and Tennyson, had such a profound conscious- 
ness of the ethical import of his art, and consecrated his gifts to 
such lofty ends. He bears the burden of these simple people on 
his heart, and exalts the virtuous humanity in them. Of such as 
these would he record praises, and of such would he speak that 
justice might be done, and obeisance paid where it is due. It must 
be insisted upon, in any final judgment on Wordsworth's poetry, 
that the reason for the simple and homely theme, the seeking 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 218-221. 



''THE BROTHERS" AND "MICHAEL" 183 

** for present good in life's familiar face," is the feeling on the part 
of Wordsworth that here, among men in lowly station, pursuing 
simple tasks, and exemplifying the basic virtues, we find humanity 
at its best. Here the poet had heard 

From mouths of men obscure and lowly, truths 
Replete with honour ; sounds in unison 
With loftiest promises of good and fair.^ 

He reads human nature as illustrated in such characters as Michael, 
and Leonard in '*The Brothers," and feels that of such is not only 
the kingdom of heaven, but of such must be the kingdom of earth 
if society is to realize its highest good. Here, in these two poems, 
we find him exalting the domestic affections, and he hopes, as in- 
dicated in the letter to Fox, to excite *' profitable sympathies " in 
good hearts and to '' enlarge our feelings of reverence for our 
species." Coleridge, who is certainly no mean critic, so felt the 
beauty, sacredness, and force of this ethical purpose of Words- 
worth that, after reading the second volume of the " Lyrical 
Ballads," he wrote to Godwin : '^ I should judge of a man's heart 
and intellect, precisely according to the degree and intensity of the 
admiration with which he read these poems. Perhaps instead 
of heart, I should have said taste, but when I think of *The 
Brothers,' of ' Ruth,' and of ' Michael,' I recur to the expression, 
and am enforced to say Aeart, If I die, and the booksellers will 
give you anything for my life, be sure to say ; ' Wordsworth de- 
scended on him like the Tvcodc creavTov from heaven, by showing 
to him what true poetry was, he made him know that he himself 
was no Poet.' " ^ 

Of course these three poems are far in advance of many of the 
poems of the first edition of the ** Lyrical Ballads," which evoked 
much severe criticism and ridicule. But even in this second edition 
occasional triviality is manifest, and here also we can see the human 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 183-185. 

2 Paul, William Godwin : His Friends and Contemporaries, II, 79. Cf. Knight, 
The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 224. 



1 84 WORDSWORTH 

motive back of it all. This, of course, does not necessarily justify 
such poetry, but it explains how one who could write the '' Lines 
composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey," '' Three years she 
grew i^ sun and shower," '' Hart-leap Well," *' Ode to Duty," 
and ''Ode. Intimations of Immortality" was led to write verse 
that met with unsparing criticism and contempt. 

These objectionable qualities are manifest in the poem ''Alice 
Fell ; or, Poverty." It is a homely story of a little girl weeping 
because her old weather-beaten cloak was torn by a wheel while she 
was riding behind a post chaise. The poem, written in 1802 and 
published in 1807, was ridiculed by his critics. Wordsworth, in a 
subsequent publication, adds a note explaining the circumstances 
under which it was written, and the thoroughly human motive back 
of it. He says : " Written to gratify Mr. Graham of Glasgow, 
brother of the author of 'The Sabbath.' He was a zealous co- 
adjutor of Mr. Clarkson, and a man of ardent humanity. The 
incident had happened to himself, and he urged me to put it into 
verse for humanity's sake. The humbleness, meanness if you 
like, of the subject, together with the homely mode' of treating 
it, brought upon me] a world of ridicule by the small critics, so 
that in policy I excluded it from many editions of my poems, till 
it was restored at the request of some of my friends, in particular 
my son-in-law, Edward Quillinan."^ That others appreciated 
Wordsworth's verse of this character is evident from Charles 
Lamb's letter to him, written in 181 5, after the revision of the 
poem. Referring to Wordsworth's critics he said, " I am glad that 
you have not sacrificed a verse to those scoundrels." ^ 

" Resolution and Independence," or the story of an old leech- 
gatherer, is one of Wordsworth's masterpieces. Of course, a critic 
of the old school could hardly expect to find poetic inspiration in 
such a humble and obscure person. His vocation places him but 
a little higher in the social scale than the vagrants in whom our 
Poet could discern something worthy of consideration, and from 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, II, 272-27311. ^ Ibid., 276 n. 



RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE 185 

whom he felt he could learn important lessons. But Wordsworth 
regards him with favor, and does not seem to think it disrespectful 
or degrading to the Muse to sing of this old man's pursuing a very 
humble calling. The old man proves to be an object lesson to the 
Poet, and he proceeds to embody it in noble verse. The poem is 
based largely on fact, and the story runs as follows : 

On a beautiful morning after a storm, when ''all things that 
love the sun are out of doors," as Wordsworth journeys over the 
moor, sharing in the joyousness of Nature, he soon finds himself 
in a different mood, oppressed with "fears and fancies" con- 
cerning his future. As a matter of fact he is thinking that thus 
far he had pursued the poet's calling with comparatively little suc- 
cess, pecuniary or otherwise. His material resources are limited, 
and on this bright morning he is looking forward to an uncertain 
future. He reflects on the fact that the poet's life, although having 
a glad beginning, frequently ends in ''despondency and madness." 
As he walks along, striving with these " untoward thoughts," he 
comes across an old man standing motionless beside a pool. He 
is bent almost double with extreme age. Soon the old man takes 
his staff and stirs the pool, gazing fixedly on the muddy water. 
Wordsworth approaches him with a stranger's greeting, and re- 
ceives a gentle and courteous acknowledgment. Then, in response 
to a question, the old man explains the nature of his occupation. 
He is a leech-gatherer. Being old and poor, he must engage in 
this " employment hazardous and wearisome," enduring frequent 
hardships to gain a livelihood. The heroism of this man, struggling 
with the infirmities of age and poverty, come to Wordsworth as a 
kind of heavenly admonishment. However, his former fears re- 
turn. The uncertain fate of poets still disturbs him. What does 
the future hold in store for him, with " mighty Poets in their 
misery dead " ? And so, " perplexed and longing to be com- 
forted," he renews his question, asking the aged man how he 
lives, and what is the real nature of his vocation. To this he 
replies, explaining how he travels hither and thither gathering 



1 86 WORDSWORTH 

leeches, as well as the method by which he secures them. But, 
he adds, once they were plentiful ; now, however, they are hard 
to find ; yet he perseveres, finding them wherever he can. Then 
the old man turns to converse cheerfully on other subjects. His 
unyielding, unconquerable spirit, laboring under most discouraging 
difficulties, handicapped by age, comes as a rebuke to Wordsworth 
for yielding to fears concerning his own future lot, and inspires 
him with courage and resolution. 

In this poem, and a number of others to be analyzed in this chap- 
ter, Wordsworth illustrates what he confesses in '' The Prelude " : 

When I began to enquire, 
To watch and question those I met, and speak 
Without reserve to them, the lonely roads 
Were open schools in which I daily read 
With most delight the passions of mankind. 
Whether by words, looks, sighs, or tears, revealed ; 
There saw into the depth of human souls, 
Souls that appear to have no depth at all 
To careless eyes.^ 

In the leech-gatherer he finds a man of indomitable will, carry- 
ing on his work bravely, though bowed with age, though obliged 
to walk far and wide, to meet hazardous situations, and to behold 
ever-dwindling returns for his labor. In Michael, the peasant, as 
we have seen, he finds a strength of love that makes things endur- 
able, '' which else would overset the brain, or break the heart." 
In Leonard, the orphan boy, he finds an example of self-sacrificing, 
brotherly love that leads him to give up all and brave all in behalf 
of another. In poor Margaret, as we shall soon see, he finds a 
fidelity of heart that makes a mother's love consume her very life 
in mourning for her lost son. And so we meet in his poetry with 
numerous examples which illustrate the fact that Wordsworth is 
teaching the lessons he learned from lowly folk, and is carrying 
out the resolution referred to in *' The Prelude " : 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 160-168. 



"THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET ' 187 

Of these, said I, shall be my song ; of these, 

If future years mature me for the task, 

Will I record the praises, making verse 

Deal boldly with substantial things ; in truth 

And sanctity of passion, speak of these, 

That justice may be done, obeisance paid 

Where it is due : thus haply shall I teach, 

Inspire ; through unadulterated ears 

Pour rapture, tenderness, and hope, — my theme 

No other than the very heart of man. 

As found among the best of those who live.^ 

What loftier subject for poetry could he have than these elemental 
passions and basic virtues, the exercise of which give life worth, 
and without which society could not exist ? 

To these subjects Wordsworth could and did give genuine 
poetic treatment. He had sufficient imagination to accomplish the 
task. As Professor Raleigh says concerning this poem " Resolu- 
tion and Independence," referring to its dramatic action : '' The 
management of it shows Wordsworth at his greatest. He had not 
loved and studied Nature in vain. The man is compared to certain 
natural appearances which have something of mystery and dignity 
about them — to a huge boulder, deposited, none knows how, on a 
hill-top — to a slow-moving cloud, seen from afar, untroubled by 
the tumult of the winds — to a sea-beast that has crawled out of 
its native element to taste the strange warmth of the sun. Before 
he delivers his message the Leech-gatherer is felt to be * a man 
from some far region sent.' And when he has delivered his mes- 
sage, the old pauper on the lonely moor has won a place beside 
the great heroic figures of history, or epic, or drama." ^ 

' ' The Affliction of Margaret , ' ' composed in 1 804 and published 

in 1 807, is another of these intensely human portraits. It is a story of 
a widow mourning for her lost son. Like other poems, it was founded 
on fact, which is used as a basis for idealization. It was taken, says 
Wordsworth, *'from the case of a poor widow who lived in the 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 232-242. 2 Raleigh, Wordsworth, 183. 



1 88 WORDSWORTH 

town of Penrith. Her sorrow was well known to Mrs. Wordsworth, 
to my sister, and, I believe, to the whole town. She kept a shop, and 
when she saw a stranger passing by, she was in the habit of going 
out into the street to enquire of him after her son." ^ In the poem 
Margaret bewails her loss, not knowing whether her son is living 
or dead, and utters a plaintive plea for his return. Wordsworth 
portrays with unusual skill, and in beautiful verse, her mental dis- 
tress. The afflicted woman is almost overcome by her ignorance 
concerning the young man's whereabouts. It breeds all sorts of 
misgivings and fears. Her imagination tortures her with horrible 
pictures of the possible fate that may have befallen him : 

Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan, 

Maimed, mangled by inhuman men ; 

Or thou upon a desert thrown 

Inheritest the Hon's den ; 

Or hast been summoned to the deep, 

Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep 

An incommunicable sleep.^ * 

Receiving no earthly tidings, she looks for tidings from another 
world. If he be dead, possibly his ghost may appear; but she finds 
no truth in the belief that man may have intercourse with the dead. 
She gains no sight of him for whom she waits day and night, '' with 
love and longings infinite." Her mental condition gives rise to 
manifold apprehensions : 

My apprehensions come in crowds ; 
I dread the rustling of the grass ; 
The very shadows of the clouds 
Have power to shake me as they pass ; 
I question things and do not find 
One that will answer to my mind ; 
And all the world appears unkind.^ 

And then comes the climax of her sorrow. It is hinted at, indeed, 
in the last line of the verse just quoted. She begins to experience 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, III, 7 n. 

2 The Affliction of Margaret , 50-56. ^ Ibid., 64-70. 



THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET 189 

that spiritual isolation which is the curse of profound grief. She is 

brought to realize in her extremity that each heart knows its own 

bitterness ; that it cannot be shared with or by another ; 

Beyond participation lie 
My troubles, and beyond relief : 
If any chance to heave a sigh, 
They pity me, and not my grief. 
Then come to me, my Son, or send 
Some tidings that my woes may end ; 
I have no other earthly friend ! ^ 

Here is a poet who knows the human heart. He has sounded 
its depths. He is acquainted with grief, which, more than any- 
thing else, reveals the abysmal deeps of the spirit. He knows 
the passions of the soul, not in their superficial tumult, but in 
their profound undercurrents. It is poems like this, and like 
*^Ruth, " '^ Michael," ''The Brothers," and the sad tale of the 
ruined cottage, as told in '' The Excursion," that demonstrate how 
truly Wordsworth is the poet of Man. He seems to have a re- 
markable insight into human nature. He knows a father's heart, 
as, for example, in '' Michael," '' The Two April Mornings," and 
'' The Fountain." He knows a mother's heart, as is seen in "The 

Affliction of Margaret ." He knows a brother's heart, as is 

manifest in *' The Brothers." He knows a lover's heart, as is indi- 
cated in '' Ruth." He knows the heart of Man — its fundamental 
fears and loves, its joys and sorrows, its virtues and vices, as is 
illustrated in the large body of verse concerning Man already 
considered, and as will be further manifest in the churchyard 
biographies related in '* The Excursion." Had Wordsworth dealt 
with the human heart in all of his poetry as he has dealt with it 
in these poems, no critic worthy of consideration could have found 
reasonable fault with him. But, to quote Professor Raleigh again, 

referring to ''The Affliction of Margaret ," '' Poetry like this 

is not to be produced voluminously in a single lifetime." ^ In his 
best poetry of Man the true Wordsworth is seen, and, as seen from 

i.The Affliction of Margaret , 71-77. * Raleigh, Wordsworth, 36. 



190 



WORDSWORTH 



this point of view, he towers high above his brother-poets. He is a 
keen mental observer, a spiritual psychologist, with profound S5nn- 
pathies that aid his insight, and lead him to deal with human sorrow 
in such a manner as to bring calm and healing to the souls of men. 
In reading these compositions one can understand what he meant 
when he said to Lady Beaumont, *' To be incapable of a feeling 
of poetry, in my sense of the word, is to be without love of human 
nature and reverence for God." 

In view of this remarkable poem, and others of similar import 
already considered, it is difficult to understand the oft-repeated ob- 
jection, that Wordsworth's poetry lacks passion. Here is pathos, 
and passion of the noblest character, intense and profound, but 
restrained. It does not storm the human breast, and becloud the 
mind. It is passion subject to rational control that is to be found 
here, as in most of Wordsworth's poetry of Man. '' It was part 
of his faith, a main article of his moral creed, that *the Gods 
approve the depth and not the tumult of the soul ' ; and that * pas- 
sion itself is highest reason in a soul sublime.' " ^ 

We see in such pictures that this period, dating from his coming 
to Grasmere Vale down to 1808, was one in which the intensely 
human side of Wordsworth was wide awake, and had much to do 
in superinducing a poetic mood in which his feelings, imagination, 
and reflection centered in Man. He still sings, not of the high and 
mighty, but, as of old, of lowly folk, the humblest of mankind, 
and the result is the production of some of his best verse. However, 
during these years he dealt not only with human nature as illus- 
trated in particular individuals or characters, but also with Man's 
social and political condition. He writes poems which evince a 
deep interest in the social and political events and conditions of 
his time. In them a genuine humanity and patriotism are manifest. 
He betrays not only a love for his own people and country, but 
also a true cosmopolitan spirit. A number of these poems seem 
to have been inspired by a visit to Calais in 1802, when political 

1 Hudson, Studies in Wordsworth, ii6, Boston, 1884. 



POLITICAL SONNETS 191 

conditions were in sharp contrast with the promise and hope of a 
previous visit. To his mind they evidently did not augur welL He 
also seems anxious about the effect of conditions there on his own 
country because of the close proximity of France to England. He 
fears the power of Napoleon, and is anxious about the threatened 
liberties of the people. Not only political but social conditions 
disturb him, especially as they exist in England. The increase of 
wealth has been attended by an increase in the complexity of life, 
and by a commercializing and materializing tendency. This mental 
state gives rise to two well-known sonnets, which are among his 
best. In one, *' O Friend ! I know not which way I must look," 
the '* vanity and parade " of his country is lamented, and a feeling 
expressed that the march of wealth is productive of mischief. The 
greater sonnet of the two, the famous sonnet on Milton, shows 
him in despair over the state of things at home : 

Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : 
England hath need of thee : she is a fen 
Of stagnant waters ; altar, sword, and pen, 
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bowcFj 
Have forfeited their ancient English dower 
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; 
Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; 
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.^ 

But such words are sometimes supplanted by others which breathe 
a stronger faith and hope, especially with reference to politics, as 
in the sonnet, ''It is not to be thought of that the Flood," wherein 
he says that it is impossible to think of British freedom perishing 
in ''bogs and sands," and in the sonnet, "When I have borne 
in memory what has tamed," in which he expresses shame for his 
"unfilial fears," and shows his appreciation of England as "a 
bulwark for the cause of men." 

Anxious moods, however, seem to predominate, as they often will 
with a patriotic observer of events, and especially with the patriotic 
poet whose sensitive soul is full of a strong love of freedom. As a 

1 Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour, 1-8. 



192 WORDSWORTH 

consequence, there are still other sonnets dedicated to liberty, or, 
as he puts it later, to '' National Independence." Napoleon's sway 
and ambitious projects seem to be a disturbing influence with him. 
Most of these sonnets are born of his observations and reflections 
concerning the movements of the French '' Tyrant." The sonnets 
'' One might believe that natural miseries," '' There is a bondage 
worse, far worse, to bear," *' These times strike monied worldlings 
with dismay," *' England ! the time is come when thou shouldst 
wean," and '' When looking on the present face of things " reveal 
his state of mind so far as events of the time are concerned. '' To 
the Men of Kent," "In the Pass of Killicranky," " Lines on the 
Expected Invasion," and ''Anticipation" are poems written really 
in anticipation of a possible, if not indeed a probable, invasion of 
England by Napoleon. The French conqueror had amassed a large 
army for this purpose, and the English people were on fire with 
patriotic zeal to defend their land and liberties. It was natural 
that such a liberty-loving poet as Wordsworth should celebrate in 
advance, by anticipation, the inevitable result of such an attempt on 
the part of the French ruler. 

We have another evidence of Wordsworth's humanity in '' Lines " 
composed in September, 1 806, in expectation of the death of Charles 
James Fox, Minister for Foreign Affairs. Professor Knight, in a 
note appended to the poem, says : '' Wordsworth's sadness on this 
occasion, his recognition of Fox as great and good, and as 'a 
Power' that was 'passing from the earth,' may have been due 
partly to personal and political sympathy, but also probably to 
Fox's appreciation of the better side of the French Revolution, 
and to his welcoming the pacific proposals of Talleyrand, perhaps 
also to his efforts for the abolition of slavery." ^ In this year 
matters reached a crisis with England. Napoleon had conquered 
the Germans. Another power had been laid low, and on Novem- 
ber 2 1 of this year he issued a decree for the blockade of England. 
Wordsworth, as a consequence, writes another sonnet " dedicated 
1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, IV, 48-4911. 



POLITICAL SONNETS 1 93 

to Liberty," entitled '* November, 1806," in which he recognizes the 
fact that England's safety now depends upon herself, and again 
anticipates rejoicing over victory, 

if they who rule the land 
Be men who hold its many blessings dear, - 

Wise, upright, valiant ; not a servile band, 
Who are to judge of danger which they fear, 
And honour which they do not understand.^ 

If many of the *' Poems dedicated to National Independence 
and Liberty " are to be fully understood, they must be read in the 
light of the spirit of the times — the social and political move- 
ments of the age; otherwise we shall miss their true import. 
Furthermore, they must be read with a consciousness that we 
are dealing with a poet whose heart is close to Man — who views 
events with a liberty-loving eye and soul, with a heart that throbs 
not only with a profound love for his own country, and its free 
institutions, but with a universal love, a love for Man as Man. 
Poet of Nature that he is — as much so, if indeed not more so, 
during his residence in Grasmere Vale than at any other time in 
his whole career — he is also the poet of Man, with a deep and 
abiding interest in those conditions which make for social and 
political welfare. In his soul sounds ''the still sad music of 
humanity," and his poet's heart and mind are enlisted in the 
service of humanity's sacred cause. 

1 November, 1806, 10-14. 



CHAPTER XII 

GRASMERE (CONTINUED). "THE PRELUDE." "ODE TO ' 
DUTY." " CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR " 

If we could place no further work to Wordsworth's credit, during 
his residence in Grasmere Vale, than the poems already considered, 
they would bear testimony to the fertility of his genius, and are 
of sufficient number and quality to give him a recognized place in 
English poetry. But, as a matter of fact, they do not represent 
the greater part of his work during this period, nor his most im- 
portant contributions to literature. A large part of his time and 
effort was spent on more ambitious productions, some of which, at 
least, constitute a fair measure of his claim to immortality. The 
productions referred to include the autobiographical poem ''The 
Prelude " ; the famous *' Ode to Duty " ; the well-known poem 
'' Character of the Happy Warrior " ; and the great *' Ode. Inti- 
mations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood." 
These poems throw a bright light on the development of Words- 
worth, both as a poet of Nature and as a poet of Man. They are 
important, too, not only from the standpoint of his personal psy- 
chology, but also as giving an insight into the content of his 
philosophic faith. Therefore they call for careful examination, 
and a strict regard for chronology requires that we begin with 
" The Prelude." 

As far back at least as the Racedown days Wordsworth had in 
mind the composition, sooner or later, of a work that should really 
be his magnum opus — a work of large scope, more or less philo- 
sophical in character, and having for its subject, " Nature, Man, 
and Society." In a letter written to James Losh, in 1798, he says: 
'' I have written 706 lines of a poem which I hope to make of 

194 



THE PRELUDE 1 95 

considerable utility. Its title will be, The Recluse, or Views of 
Nature, Man, and Society." ^ According to the Bishop of Lincoln, 
Coleridge wrote to Wordsworth in the summer of 1799, urging 
him to steady work on *' The Recluse." He says, " I am anx- 
iously eager to have you steadily employed on 'The Recluse.' "^ 
Again, as was stated in a previous chapter, Coleridge writes to him 
at Sockbume, October 12, 1799, saying: '' I long to see what you 
have been doing. O let it be the tail-piece of ' The Recluse,' for 
of nothing but * The Recluse ' can I hear patiently. That it is to 
be addressed to me makes me more desirous that it should not be 
a poem of itself. To be addressed, as a beloved man, by a thinker, 
at the close of such a poem as 'The Recluse,' a poem non unius 
populi, is the only event, I believe, capable of inciting in me an 
hour's vanity — vanity, nay, it is too good a feeling to be so called ; 
it would indeed be a self -elevation produced ab extra r ^ In still 
another letter, dated December, 1799, he writes from London, 
saying, "I grieve that 'The Recluse' sleeps."^ Again, at the 
close of the fragment " The Recluse," which records the journey 
of Wordsworth and Dorothy to Grasmere Vale, and their settle- 
ment there, we find these words : 

Yet in this peaceful Vale we will not spend 
Unheard of days, though loving, peaceful thoughts. 
A voice shall speak, and what will be the theme ? ^ 

The theme is indicated in a manuscript note, published in 18 14 : 

On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life 
Musing in Solitude.^ 

Wordsworth himself, in his preface to "The Excursion," published 
in 1 8 14, explains the relation of "The Prelude" to this elaborate 
poem. His explanation throws much light on the entire scheme. 
In it he says : " Several years ago, when the Author retired to his 
native mountains, with the hope of being enabled to construct a 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, I, 148. 2 ibid., 195. 

* Ibid,, 201. * Ibid., 202. ^ Ibid., 254. ® Ibid., 254 n. 



196 WORDSWORTH 

literary Work that might live, it was a reasonable thing that he 
should take a review of his own mind, and examine how far Nature 
and Education had qualified him for such employment. As sub- 
sidiary to this preparation, he undertook to record, in verse, the 
origin and progress of his own powers, as far as he was acquainted 
with them. That Work, addressed to a dear Friend, most distin- 
guished for his knowledge and genius, and to whom the Author's 
Intellect is deeply indebted, has been long finished ; and the result 
of the investigation which gave rise to it was a determination to 
compose a philosophical poem, containing views of Man, Nature, 
and Society ; and to be entitled, ' The Recluse ' ; as having for its 
principal subject the sensations and opinions of a poet living in 
retirement. — The preparatory poem is biographical, and conducts 
the history of the Author's mind to the point when he was embold- 
ened to hope that his faculties were sufficiently matured for enter- 
ing upon the arduous labour which he had proposed to himself ; 
and the two Works have the same kind of relation to each other, 
if he may so express himself, as the ante-chapel has to the body 
of a Gothic church. Continuing this allusion, he may be permitted 
to add, that his minor Pieces, which have been long before the 
Public, when they shall be properly arranged, will be found by the 
attentive Reader to have such connection with the main work as 
may give them claim to be likened to the little cells, oratories, 
and sepulchral recesses, ordinarily included in those edifices." ^ 

It is manifest here that the elaborate work ''The Recluse" 
was to consist of three parts, and the autobiographical poem was 
to constitute the introduction. But '' The Recluse," as originally 
planned, was never finished. ''The Excursion," however, which 
represents the second part, was completed. The First Part of the 
First Book of "The Recluse" was left in manuscript, and the 
Third Part was merely planned. " The materials of which it would 
have been formed, have, however, been incorporated, for the most 

1 The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, edited by Thomas Hutchinson, 
754, London, 1895. 



THE PRELUDE 1 97 

part, in the Author's other pubUcations, written subsequently to 
' The Excursion.' " ^ 

We have already observed that Wordsworth was at work on 
''The Prelude" in Germany in 1799. This work was continued 
at intervals during his residence in Town-end, Grasmere Vale, 
until the poem was completed, in 1805. Eleven of the fourteen 
books were composed before 1805 ; the remaining three were com- 
pleted before June of the same year.^ 

The poem was addressed to Coleridge, who felt greatly pleased 
and complimented because of the honor thus conferred upon him. 
After hearing a recitation of the poem, he saw his friend '' in the 
choir of ever-enduring men." The deep impression made upon 
him is evident in the last verse of his own poem "To William 
Wordsworth ; Composed on the Night after his Recitation of a 
Poem on the Growth of an Individual Mind " : 

And when — O Friend ! my comforter and guide ! 
Strong in thyself, and powerful to give strength ! — 
Thy long-sustained Song finally closed, 
And thy deep voice had ceased — yet thou thyself 
Wert still before my eyes, and round us both 
That happy vision of beloved faces — 
Scarce conscious, and yet conscious of its close 
I sate, my being blended in one thought 
(Thought was it ? or aspiration ? or resolve ?) 
Absorbed, yet hanging still upon the sound — 
And when I rose I found myself in prayer.^ 

The nature of '' The Prelude " is indicated in its sub-title, which 
reads — '* Or, Growth of a Poet's Mind ; an Autobiographical 
Poem." In it Wordsworth traces the development of his own 
mind as a poet. It is invaluable, therefore, in throwing light on 
his evolution both as a poet of Nature and as a poet of Man. We 
have already considered it at length in making it in a measure the 

^ Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, III, 122 n. 
2 Cf. The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, edited by Thomas Hutchin- 
son, p. xxviii. 

^ Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, III, 131 n. 



198 WORDSWORTH 

foundation of our study of Wordsworth's mental and spiritual 
development up to the point in his history where he more or less 
formally enters upon his career as a poet, and we have noted the 
forces at work with his spirit, as he himself describes them, and 
also his conceptions of Nature and Man, and their relations as 
therein contained. The elaborate poem, therefore, does not call for 
further analysis or consideration here, more than to say that there 
is the same lack of definiteness in regard to Wordsworth's real con- 
ception of Nature that we find elsewhere. All the different modes 
of his apprehending her are brought out. It is the Presences of 
Nature that are addressed in Book I of '' The Prelude," ^ when he 
is speaking of the unique experiences of his boyhood. On the other 
hand, it is of Nature and her overflowing soul that he speaks in 
Book 11,2 when reviewing the development of his mind during the 
Hawkshead days. Again, it is to natural objects that, in Book III, 
he attributes moral life when he is a student at Cambridge : 

To every natural form, rock, fruit, or flower, 
Even the loose stones that cover the high-way, 
I gave a moral life.^ 

But on the other hand, he adds, 

the great mass 
Lay bedded in a quickening soul.* 

In Books VII ^ and VIII ^ it is the Spirit of Nature conceived of 
as one Spirit that is with him in London and that grants him there 
the poet's vision of Man. It is of things pervaded by a Spirit of 
which he speaks in the opening lines of Book XII. It is the 
'* Soul of Nature " that is addressed in the same book when he 
refers to her relations to him as a boy, and also in the comparison 
of his weakness with her strength in later years.^ It is of Nature 
conceived as a unitary being, and as the inspirer of emotions and 
moods, that he speaks in the opening lines of Book XIII. In 

1 The Prelude, I, 464 f. 2 ibid., II, 397 f. » Ibid., Ill, 127-129. 

* Ibid., Ill, 130-131. 6 Ibid., VII, 765 f. « Ibid., VIII, 679 f. ' Ibid., XII, 93 f. 



ODE TO DUTY 1 99 

other words, throughout " The Prelude " Nature is spoken of as 
things and places animated either by an all-pervading Spirit or by 
spirits of their own. His dominant conception, however, is that 
Nature is something like Man in his constitution as body-mind or 
body-soul. Nature is body possessed of Soul. There is a Spiritual 
Presence in things — a conscious spiritual Life, which animates 
all objects. It pulsates in the clod ; it breathes in the rock ; it mur- 
murs in the brook ; it throbs in the sea ; it moves in the cloud ; 
it inhabits the stars ; it rolls in all things, and is the Soul of all ; 
it is the '* Wisdom and Spirit of the universe," the *' eternity of 
thought," that gives *'to forms and images a breath and ever- 
lasting motion," and it is in touch with the spirit of Man as a 
teacher, consoler, and guide. 

From *' The Prelude " we turn to the '' Ode to Duty " (composed 
in 1805), a poem, of course, of ethical import. Here may be found 
Wordsworth's conception of the nature of Man in his highest 
endowment. It is of interest also because of the Poet's view of 
the ultimate source of Duty, and of his belief in the physical world 
as governed by moral law. It is evident from the beginning of 
the poem that he considers this ultimate source to be objective. 
It lies outside of the human soul. In the magisterial conception 
with which the poem opens he figuratively calls Duty the ** Stern 
Daughter of the Voice of God," just as certain ethical writers are 
accustomed to represent conscience as the Voice of the Deity. Its 
function, according to Wordsworth, is to guide Man, to check the 
erring, to reprove, to guard, and to calm us in " the weary strife of 
frail humanity." 

But Duty also seems to be a Power in Nature, a Power " that 
preserves the stars from wrong " — that strengthens the very heavens 
themselves. 

Stem Lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear 

The Godhead's most benignant grace ; 

Nor know we anything so fair 

As is the smile upon thy face : 

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds 



200 WORDSWORTH 

And fragrance in thy footing treads ; 
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong ; 
And the most ancient heavens, through 
Thee, are fresh and strong.^ 

Of course this might be regarded merely as a highly poetic and 
figurative way of conceiving Duty; just as, by the saying that 
the stars in their courses fight for a man who is in the right, 
we represent the order of the physical universe as a moral order. 
All of this carries with it, at least impliedly, a belief in the uni- 
verse as grounded in righteousness. But in Wordsworth's '' Ode 
to Duty" more than this seems to be meant. It must be remem- 
bered that we have repeatedly found the Poet conceiving of the 
Spirit of Nature from the moral point of view. Its ministry to 
Man is largely a moral ministry. It builds up and fashions his soul 
largely through moral warnings, appeals, suggestions, and inspira- 
tions. We have seen, too, how Wordsworth regards Nature as a 
teacher imparting lessons of sublime ethical import; also, how 
we '' frame the measure of our souls " from the '* blessed power 
that rolls about, below, above." Again, it has been noted how 
the Spirit of Nature is a Spirit of Love, which binds the world of 
things and the world of men into one spiritual kingdom ; and, 
further, how it exercises a kind of providence over the animal 
world, visiting its displeasure upon Man for his inhumanity to 
the brute creation. We have observed, also, how this Spirit, so 
moral in its offices, is the Spirit 

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things,^ 

and that the Poet, who had often been the object of its gracious 
ministry, says : 

1 Ode to Duty, 41-48. 

2 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 97-102. 



CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR 20I 

Therefore am I . . . well pleased to recognise 
In nature and the language of the sense 
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
Of all my moral being.^ 

It appears, therefore, that Wordsworth, in this majestic ode, 
has really something more in mind than what ordinarily might be 
regarded as a highly poetic representation of the moral law in its 
relation to his own spirit, or, more generally speaking, to the spirit 
of Man, as well as in its relation to the so-called physical world. 
He seems, in short, to identify Duty with the voice of the omni- 
present Spirit which, in this poem, he calls God. However, it is 
not meant by this interpretation that the Poet conceives God merely 
as the moral order of the universe, as is the case with Fichte and 
others. What he really means is, that all law, whether governing 
souls or things, is, in the final analysis, moral law. The Power 
that upholds the human world, as well as the Power that holds 
the stars in their courses, is a Power that makes for righteousness. 
It is the '' nurse," '' guide," and *' anchor " of our purest thoughts 
— the very soul of our moral being, and it is also the Power that 
''preserves the stars from wrong," through which '' the most ancient 
heavens are fresh and strong." It is, according to our Poet, a per- 
sonal Power, whose '' voice " is Nature's law, as well as the measure 
of Man's moral spirit. 

The poem '' Character of the Happy Warrior," dated 1806, was 
probably written in the latter part of 1805. It needs recognition 
here only because of the light that it throws on the human side of 
Wordsworth's genius, and on the genuine patriotism of the man, 
as well as presenting, in a large measure, his ethical view of the 
life of a true warrior, and his exalted ideal of what a servant of the 
nation should be. It therefore deals with Man. The poem is a de- 
scription of an ideal soldier and was suggested by the death of Lord 
Nelson. He informs us in a prefatory note, however, that Nelson's 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 107-111. 



202 WORDSWORTH 

" public life was stained with one great crime, so that though many 
passages of these lines were suggested by what was generally known 
as excellent in his conduct, I have not been able to connect his 
name with the poem as I could wish, or even to think of him with 
satisfaction in reference to the idea of what a warrior ought to be." ^ 
He further states that he found in his sailor brother. Captain John 
Wordsworth, many of the qualities portrayed in the poem. Words- 
worth very seldom takes one who is conspicuous in the public eye, 
or exalted in position, as the object or hero of his poems. Lord 
Nelson constitutes one of the few exceptions to the rule, and even 
here the noble poem could not be completely devoted to him. The 
Poet, true to his habit of mind, falls back upon a modest and more 
or less obscure character as the exemplar of many of the noblest 
qualities which the poem portrays. Even here he seems to find the 
best elements of our humanity illustrated in one of humble nature and 
station. The poem is a '* manual of greatness," as Mr. Myers sug- 
gests, and an analysis will reveal what qualities are included in it : 
Who is the happy warrior, according to Wordsworth ? He is the 
man of generosity, whose high endeavors guide him ; who is dili- 
gent to learn ; who makes his moral being his prime care ; who 
turns suffering to gain ; who is compassionate and placable, pure 
and tender, and makes Reason his law ; who rises to high position 
by open means, and will stand there honorably or retire ; who 
understands his trust, and stands faithful to it ; whose powers shed 
a gracious influence about him ; who meets tremendous issues with 
the joyousness of a lover ; who abides by the law in the midst of 
conflict, and proves equal to the need of any call. Who is the happy 
warrior ? He who, though fitted for great and turbulent things, is 
predisposed to quiet and peace ; who, whether in high or low sta- 
tion, conspicuous or obscure in life, plays the game under favorable 
or unfavorable circumstances, *' where what he most doth value must 
be won " ; who surmounts fear of danger, nor is betrayed by ten- 
der happiness. The happy warrior is the optimist, who confidently 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, IV, 7 n. 



CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR 203 

looks ahead, ever pressing forward from good to better, making 
daily progress ; who, whether he be destined to earthly applause, 
or to sink into his grave unknown, finds comfort in himself and in 
his cause, and in the hour of death confidently awaits the applause 
of Heaven. 

The '' Character of the Happy Warrior " should be read in con- 
nection with Wordsworth's '' Poems dedicated to National Inde- 
pendence and Liberty," in which he often points out what the 
character of a nation's public servants should be. All of these 
poems breathe an earnest patriotism, and many of them illustrate the 
Poet's deep devotion to the best interests of the State, and there- 
fore to Man, as well as his lofty conception of the ideals which 
ought to control those who govern. Man existing under Govern- 
ment seems to be an engaging theme with Wordsworth, and the 
political conditions of his time impel him to song. Occasionally 
we have poems of denunciation, as in the sonnets on Napoleon, 
and the traitorous Elector of Saxony. Again, there are songs of 
praise, as in the case of the poems on Charles James Fox, the leader 
of Parliament, and Lord Nelson, the hero of Trafalgar. Sometimes 
his song is one of lament over prevailing conditions, and there are 
notes of anxious fear because of the trend of events ; and again, 
there are songs of hope, with a trumpet call to the brave to stand 
fast for liberty, and courageously do the duty of the hour. Some- 
times he beholds the persistent triumph of wrong, and his faith in 
God almost gives way, as is evident in the sonnet " October, 1803 " ; 
again, faith looks through the clouds and darkness and gains a 
vision of the ultimate victory of right. Our Poet, despite the beauty 
of Grasmere Vale, which so persistently enchants him, is not, dur- 
ing these stirring years, merely the poet of Nature, but also the 
poet of Man, in close touch with him in the humble walks of life, 
and keeping his eye fixed upon the great social and political issues 
of the time, solicitous for his well-being — an ardent patriot, guard- 
ing with zealous interests the liberties of his own country, and con- 
tinuing, as of old, '' a patriot of the world." 



CHAPTER XIII 

GRASMERE (CONCLUDED). « ODE. INTIMATIONS OF 

IMMORTALITY » 

From the preceding chapters relating to Wordsworth's life in 
the delightful Vale of Grasmere it is evident that with him it was 
a period of great mental activity. It witnessed the composition of 
a large number of poems, many of which may be regarded as 
among the finest products of his imagination. Most of them have 
already been considered. However, one remains which, in the 
judgment of some critics, more than any other poem of the numer- 
ous creations of his genius, entitles him to a seat among the Im- 
mortals. This is the celebrated '' Ode. Intimations of Immortality 
from Recollections of Early Childhood," composed 1 803-1 806. 
It is, in some respects, one of his most important works, whether 
viewed from the standpoint of mere art, or from that of poetic 
insight. Professor Knight says : *' Mr. Aubrey De Vere has urged 
me to take it out of its chronological place, and let it conclude the 
whole series of Wordsworth's poems, as the greatest, and that to 
which all others lead up. Mr. De Vere's wish is based on conver- 
sations which he had with the poet himself." ^ We have in the 
ode a description of the trance to which he was subject, with its 
revelation, and, in a measure, the history of the growth and de- 
velopment of his own mind up to a certain period in his life — in 
all of which he appears to think his own experience to be repre- 
sentative of that of men in general. The personal psychology and 
philosophy of mind presented, with their epistemological and on- 
tological implications, are exceedingly interesting. Special attention 
must be given to these features of the poem, because of their bear- 
ing on the Poet's conception of corporeal things, and of the ultimate 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, VIII, 199 n. 

204 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 205 

nature of Reality. There is presented, also, Wordsworth's ap- 
parent belief in the soul's preexistence, as well as significant 
intimations of its immortality. This great ode is a poem which, 
in the final analysis, deals with Nature and Man. 

In an interesting note to Miss Fenwick the Poet says : '* This 
was composed during my residence at Town-end, Grasmere. Two 
years at least passed between the writing of the four first stanzas 
and the remaining part. To the attentive and competent reader 
the whole sufficiently explains itself; but there may be no harm 
in adverting here to particular feelings or experiences of my own 
mind on which the structure of the poem partly rests. Nothing 
was more difficult for me in childhood than to admit the notion of 
death as a state applicable to my own being. I have said elsewhere — 

A simple child, 
That lightly draws its breath, 
And feels its life in every limb, 
What should it know of death ! — 

But it was not so much from feelings of animal vivacity that my 
difficulty came as from a sense of the indomitableness of the Spirit 
within me. I used to brood over the stories of Enoch and Elijah, 
and almost to persuade myself that, whatever might become of 
others, I should be translated, in something of the same way, to 
heaven. With a feeling congenial to this, I was often unable to 
think of external things as having external existence, and I 
communed with all that I saw as something not apart from, but 
inherent in, my own immaterial nature. Many times while going 
to school have I grasped at a wall or tree to recall myself from 
this abyss of idealism to the reality. At that time I was afraid of 
such processes. In later periods of life I have deplored, as we 
have all reason to do, a subjugation of an opposite character, and 
have rejoiced over the remembrances, as is expressed in the lines — 

Obstinate questionings 
Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings, etc. 



2o6 WORDSWORTH 

To that dream-like vividness and splendour which invest objects 
of sight in childhood, every one, I believe, if he would look back, 
could bear testimony, and I need not dwell upon it here; but 
having in the poem regarded it as presumptive evidence of a prior 
state of existence, I think it right to protest against a conclusion, 
which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I meant 
to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be 
recommended to faith, as more than an element in our instincts 
of immortality. But let us bear in mind that, though the idea is 
not advanced in revelation, there is nothing there to contradict it, 
and the fall of man presents an analogy in its favour. Accordingly, 
a pre-existent state has entered into the popular creeds of many 
nations ; and, among all people acquainted with classic literature, 
is known as an ingredient in Platonic philosophy. Archimedes 
said that he could move the world if he had a point whereon to 
rest his machine. Who has not felt the same aspirations as regards 
the world of his own min^d ? Having to wield some of its elements 
when I was impelled to write this poem on the ' Immortality of the 
Soul,' I took hold of the notion of pre-existence as having suffi- 
cient foundation in humanity for authorizing me to make for my 
purpose the best use of it I could as a poet." ^ 

Wordsworth, although he says that he did not mean to inculcate 
the doctrine of preexistence as an article of faith, seems strongly 
to incline to it as a personal conviction. It appears elsewhere in 
his poetry, and constitutes the very basis of the ode on im- 
mortality. It receives a quasi-indorsement in his conception of 
childhood, as brought out in '' The Prelude," in which he says : 

Our childhood sits, 
Our simple childhood, sits upon a throne 
That hath more power than all the elements. 
I guess not what this tells of Being past, 
Nor what it augurs of the life to come.^ 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, VIII, 189-190 n. 

2 The Prelude, V, 507-511. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 207 

In " The Excursion " he virtually affirms the doctrine. He asks : 

Ah ! why in age 
Do we revert so fondly to the walks 
Of childhood — but that there the Soul discerns 
The dear memorial footsteps unimpaired 
Of her own native vigour ; thence can hear 
Reverberations ; and a choral song, 
Commingling with the incense that ascends, 
Undaunted, toward the imperishable heavens, 
From her own lonely altar ? ^ 

This must be borne in mind in interpreting the poem, which hinges 
so much on this conception and apparent belief. 

The ode opens with a description of the Poet's childhood. 
There was a time, he says, referring to this early period, when 
the whole physical universe seemed clothed in celestial light, wear- 
ing the aspect of a vision or dream. But that time is no more. The 
dream has vanished. However beautiful the earth, and however fair 
all things may be, the Poet knows '* there hath passed away a glory 
from the earth." 

Then came a time of grief, due probably to a death in his family. 
However, he was called away from it, and is now sane, cheerful, 
and strong. He rejoices in the universal gladness of Nature. 
Nevertheless, there is still a consciousness of something gone. 
A tree, or field, or flower reminds him that the visionary gleam 
has vanished ; that the glory and the dream have passed away. 

The Poet then begins to philosophize on this unique experience, 
which, apparently, in his opinion, is common to all. What does it 
signify ? Does it not imply that the ordinary conception of birth 
is erroneous ? It is neither creation nor derivation, but incarnation. 
The soul exists prior to its connection with the body. It comes to 
earth from another realm, although not in entire forgetfulness of 
its previous existence. It brings some of its wealth with it — some 
of its radiant g\ory and vision. God is the* real home of the soul, 

1 The Excursion, IX, 36-44. 



2o8 WORDSWORTH 

and from him as " trailing clouds of glory do we come." The 
body is its prison house, and not only is much of its original vision 
clouded by incarnation, but its radiance grows dimmer and dimmer 
as the earthly life advances. Human infancy is nearest to the 
Divine Glory. '* Heaven lies about us in our infancy." The boy 
is farther away from it ; yet the light is with him, and he beholds 
its Source. The youth is still farther removed ; nevertheless, he 
is still the Priest of Nature, attended '' by the vision splendid." 
Finally the man perceives its radiance ''fade into the light of 
common day." This is an epitome of life. Undoubtedly, the 
Poet is here recording his own personal experience ; and an ex- 
perience which he believes to be common to the race. We have, 
also, his own philosophy of mind — or, if not a philosophy, at 
least the expression of an apparent conviction, based upon the 
unique psychical experiences described. How beautiful his words, 
and how definite his description, of the progress of the soul from 
the preexistent state through its earthly career ! 

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting : 
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 

Hath had elsewhere its setting, 
And Cometh from afar : 

Not in entire forgetfulness, 

And not in utter nakedness, 
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 

From God, who is our home : 
Heaven lies about us in our infancy ! 
Shades of the prison-house begin to close 

Upon the growing Boy, 
But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, 

He sees it in his joy ; 
The Youth, who daily farther from the east 

Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, 

And by the vision splendid 

Is on his way attended ; 
At length the Man perceives it die away, 
And fade into the light of common day.^ 

1 Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 58-76. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 209 

Nevertheless, the earth has its own pleasures and yearnings. 
She tries, with good purpose, to make her foster child forget, not 
only the glories of his former home, but even the home itself. 
The child soon begins to adjust himself to his new surroundings. 
He is possessed of fancy and imagination, and endeavors to realize 
his own mental creations — to devise some plan, '' some fragment 
from his dream of human life " ; to reproduce, after his own 
fashion, all phases of life, thus anticipating much of the actual 
experience which later years bring. 

As if his whole vocation 
Were endless imitation.^ \ 

But, why should he thus forecast and covet the earthly life.? It 
will soon bring its weary burden to him. Why should he forsake 
the superior vision, and the blessedness of these early years, to live 
in imagination the conventional, burdensome life of the man ? And 
what, according to Wordsworth, is the power of the soul in these 
early years, and what the blessedness of its hours.? His answer 
gives an insight into his psychology of childhood. The small, 
feeble body of the child belies his soul's immensity. Not the man, 
but the child, is the best philosopher ; who keeps his glorious heri- 
tage ; who is the '' eye among the blind." It is he who reads '' the 
eternal deep," '' haunted forever by the eternal mind." He is the 
prophet and seer who intuits those profound and vital truths which 
men toil a lifetime to find, lost in darkness — even the darkness of 
the grave. To the child immortality is an ever-present reality — 
brooding over him like/the day. Stronger, too, is his grasp of funda- 
mental truths than that of the full-grown man, and far superior, also, 
is his intellectual vision. Why, then, does he, so near to the radiant 
glory and truth of the past, look forward with the eye of imagination 
from the blessedness and freedom of these early years to a future, 
when the ''inevitable yoke" of manhood will be placed upon his 
neck, and the weary burden of custom will weigh upon his soul } 

1 Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 
106-107. 



2IO WORDSWORTH 

The thought of these years of childhood breeds in the Poet 
" perpetual benediction," and he raises the song of praise, not for 
the delight, freedom, and new-fledged hope which are so peculiar 
to these first years, but rather for the visionary dream which yields 
an ethereal world — for the trance that supplants the objective, 
corporeal world of sense with the subjective, unsubstantial and 
ideal world of soul — for those powerful intimations of a spiritual 
world behind the physical world ; those recollections of a prenatal 
day ; those intuitions of truths ; those visions of an Ideal, which, 
after all, is the truly Real. The song of praise is raised 

for those obstinate questionings 
Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings ; 
Blank misgivings of a Creature 
Moving about in worlds not realised, 
High instincts before which our mortal Nature 
Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised : 
But for those first affections, 
Those shadowy recollections. 
Which, be they what they may, 
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, 
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing ; 

Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the being 
Of the eternal Silence : truths that wake 

To perish never : 
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, 

Nor Man nor Boy, 
Nor all that is at enmity with joy. 
Can utterly abolish or destroy ! 

Hence in a season of calm weather 
Though inland far we be. 
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 
Which brought us hither. 
Can in a moment travel thither. 
And see the Children sport upon the shore. 
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.^ 

1 Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 
145-171- 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 211 

These words must be carefully considered, as they are exceed- 
ingly significant in a study of Wordsworth as a poet of Nature 
and a poet of Man. Fortunately there are a number of recorded 
conversations which interpret them, although they do not embody 
a remarkably unique experience and view of Reality for the student 
of the history and psychology of religious or of philosophic and 
poetic mysticism, and the trance-vision so often intimately asso- 
ciated with it. We have already seen in his Fenwick note how, 
frequently, when going to school, Wordsworth had to grasp at a 
wall or a tree to recall himself from '' this abyss of idealism to the 
reality." In a conversation with Reverend Robert Perceval Graves, 
of Windermere, he makes a similar statement. Mr. Graves, in a 
letter written in 1850 to Mr. Hawes Tumer,[editor of '' Selections 
from Wordsworth," says : '* I remember Mr. Wordsworth saying, 
that at a particular stage of his mental progress, he used to be 
frequently so rapt into an unreal transcendental world of ideas that 
the external world seemed no longer to exist in relation to him, 
and he /lad to reco7ivince himself of its existence by clasping a 
tree^ or something that happened to be near him,!' ^ Again, in a 
letter by Professor Bonamy Price to Mr. Turner, we find words 
of similar import. He says : '* You will be glad, I am sure, to 
receive an interpretation, which chance enabled me to obtain from 
Wordsworth himself of a passage in the immortal ' Ode on 
Immortality.' ... It happened one day that the poet, my wife, 
and I were taking a walk together by the side of Rydal Water. 
We were then by the sycamores under Nab Scar. The aged poet 
was in a most genial mood, and it suddenly occurred to me that 
I might, without unwarrantable presumption, seize the golden 
opportunity thus offered, and ask him to explain these mysterious 
words. So I addressed him with an apology, and begged him to 
explain, what my own feeble mother-wit was unable to unravel, and 
for which I had in vain sought the assistance of others, what were 
those ' fallings from us, vanishings,' for which, above all other things, 

1 Poems, edited by William Knight, VIII, 201 n. 



212 WORDSWORTH 

he gave God thanks. The venerable old man raised his aged form 
erect, he was walking in the middle, and passed across me to a five- 
barred gate in the wall which bounded the road on the side of the 
lake. He clenched the top bar firmly with his right hand, pushed 
strongly against it, and then uttered these ever-memorable words : 
' There was a time in my life when I had to push against some- 
thing that resisted, to be sure that there was anything outside of 
me. I was sure of my own mind ; everything else fell away, and 
vanished into thought.' Thought, he was sure of ; matter for him, 
at the moment, was an unreality — nothing but a thought. Such 
natural spontaneous idealism has probably never been felt by any 
other man." ^ 

It is evident from the foregoing that the words of Section IX 
of the ode refer to Wordsworth's trance-experience, which was 
a common occurrence with him when a boy — an experience in 
which his mind seemed to be submerged in a complete subjectiv- 
ism, the objective world of sense falling away into unsubstanti- 
ality and unreality, leaving him merely the consciousness of his 
own mind, and its functioning in the form of thought, so-called 
matter itself being merely a form of thought. 

But it will be noticed, also, in this ninth section, that not only 
do we have a revelation concerning the nature of being — an 
idealistic view of Reality — but also a revelation with respect to 
knowledge. Knowledge is recollection. We have '' shadowy recol- 
lections " of Reality as viewed in the primal, prenatal state of the 
soul. These are '* a master-light of all our seeing." Eternal, uni- 
versal truths are awakened in us — truths that condition all our 
knowledge, that neither indifference, nor mad endeavor, nor all 
that is hostile to our happiness "can utterly abolish or destroy." 
They give us a profound sense of our nearness to God, so that the 
'* noisy years " of our life seem but " moments in the being of 
the eternal Silence." They give us, also, a sense of our own 
eternity — a sight of an immortal sea on which we have sailed hither, 

1 Poetical W^orks, edited by William Knight, VIII, 201-202 n. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 213 

whose ever-rolling waters are heard by the spirit of Man. In other 
words, the knowledge of the child consists largely of ''shadowy 
recollections " of a previous state of existence. These remem- 
brances grow more shadowy as we grow older ; nevertheless, though 
far removed, we catch glimpses of that transcendent, supersensuous, 
preincamate world which originally was, and, indeed, is still, our 
home. This childhood-vision is closely related to Wordsworth's 
poetic power, "the vision and the faculty divine " — to his mystical 
insight into things ; hence its significance. 

But the fading of childhood's vision does not depress the Poet. 
Rather will he rejoice. Its radiance and splendor are gone, but he 
will not grieve. Indeed, he will find strength 

in what remains behind ; 
In the primal sympathy 
Which having been must ever be ; 
-In the soothing thoughts that spring 
Out of human suffering ; 
In the faith that looks through death, 
In years that bring the philosophic mind.^ 

The vision that now rises before him has not the glory of the rosy 
vision of Man's dawn, but, through a mixture of lights and shades, 
it always has an atmosphere of hope. And concerning Nature, 
although she does not wear in maturer years the aspect of the 
'' glory and thedream " of childhood, nevertheless her might is felt, 
and his love for her has grown stronger and richer. It has been 
humanized by ''hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity." 
To this he bears testimony in the last verse of the immortal ode ; 

And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, 

Forbode not any severing of our loves ! 

Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might ; 

I only have relinquished one delight 

To live beneath your more habitual sway. 

I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, 

^ Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 
184-190. 



f 

214 WORDSWORTH 

Even more than when I tripped lightly as they ; 
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day 

Is lovely yet ; 
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun 
Do take a sober colouring from an eye 
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; 
Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, 
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, 
To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.^ 

This supernormal experience of childhood seems intimately re- 
lated to his poetic pov^er, especially in its apprehension of Nature, 
which is such a notable feature of his poetry, and it may be perti- 
nently asked v^hether, indeed, it be not in a certain sense the gate- 
way to a complete understanding of his ontology — his conception 
of being. The conception of a universal spirit in Nature, empha- 
sized by Wordsworth in such a manner as almost to cancel, at times, 
the reality of a corporeal world, seems to have its roots in the 
mysticism of his nature, which, not only in childhood, but later in 
life, was often attended by these peculiar trance-experiences. In 
them the bodily sense, through which we gain our vision of the 
world of things, seems to be laid asleep, and the soul appears to be 
plunged into the deeps of a subjective experience, with its ethereal 
or dreamlike world, formed of materials of consciousness which 
carry with them no extramental reference. In other words, what 
we call the external, material world seems, in these trance-states, 
as the Poet himself declares in the Fenwick note to the ode, to 
have no reality. He says : ''I was often unable to think of exter- 
nal things as having external existence, and I communed with all 
that I saw as something not apart from, but inherent in, my own 
immaterial nature." ^ And again, elsewhere in his conversation 
with Mr. Graves, already referred to, he says that he was ''fre- 
quently so rapt into an unreal transcendental world of ideas that the 

1 Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 
191-207. 2 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, VIII, 189 n. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 21 5 

external world seemed no longer to exist in relation to him." ^ 
Once more, he says to Mr. Price, as we have seen, that in these 
experiences he was sure of his own mind ; *' everything else fell 
away, and vanished into thought." 2 

Where such a conception attains to the dignity of a permanent 
reasoned view of the external world, it is known in philosophy as 
Subjective Idealism. However, up to this time it does not seem 
to have been held by the Poet as a creed or permanent faith. It 
is referred to in the ode only as an experience of childhood, and 
in his Fenwick note, as well as in his remark to Mr. Graves 
previously quoted, he shows that this was only a temporary experi- 
ence, and that he put the trance-world to a test by clasping a wall 
or a tree, or some other object, until he was convinced that an 
objective world really existed. And in his remark to Mr. Price he 
reveals the fact that he regarded the extramental world as, after 
all, a real world. Only for the moment it was lost in a subjective 
world of thought, which was the product of a mystical trance. 

Nevertheless, he refers to it in such a way as to intimate that he 
owes some sort of obligation to it. He rejoices in contemplating 
the Past, and tells us why : 

O joy ! that in our embers 

Is something that doth live, 

That nature yet remembers 

What was so fugitive ! 
The thought of our past years in me doth breed 
Perpetual benediction.^ 

And he raises *' the song of thanks and praise " for this thought of 
past years, for this *' something that doth live," for that which his 
nature still remembers. And for what is he thankful } Not for 
** th? simple creed of Childhood " — delight and liberty — but for 
the phenomena of that early trance-experience — 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, VIII, 201 n. ^ Ibid., 202 n. 
^ Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 
133-138- 



2l6 WORDSWORTH 

those obstinate questionings 
Of sense and outward things, 
Fallings from us, vanishings.^ 

An abiding impression seems to have been made — an impression 
concerning the ultimate nature of being, namely, that matter is not 
the true Reality. It seemed, indeed, to have no existence at all in 
these experiences. Spirit is the one great fact — the true and ulti- 
mately real thing. The corporeal world falls away at times ; things 
vanish, but the thinking mind remains, and functions in such a way 
as to present to him a tremendously real world. Later in life this 
appears to have affected his views of the physical world, for his 
mysticism was with him many years. Dead, inert, material, or cor- 
poreal being is not the sum total of Nature. It had no claim to 
reality at all in those supreme moments of his childhood, and very 
shadowy claims, at best, in those " serene and blessed " moods of 
his soul of later years, when the bodily sense was laid asleep, and 
he was enabled to " see into the life of things." Nature is some- 
thing more than lifeless substance ; it is matter endowed with Spirit. 
It has been customary with certain critics to speak of Words- 
worth's Platonism, especially in the doctrine of preexistence, and 
much of this ode is cited as evidence. Plato presents this concep- 
tion in a number of his works, but in the " Phaedo " ^ it appears 
in its most interesting development. It is in the views as here pre- 
sented that we specially find a similarity between his teachings and 
those of Wordsworth. The famous Greek philosopher represents 
Cebes, in a conversation with Socrates, as saying: *'Your favorite 
doctrine, Socrates, that knowledge is simply recollection, if true, also 
necessarily implies a previous time in which we learned that which 
we now recollect. But this would be impossible unless our soul 
was in some place before existing in the human form." ^ Words- 
worth's conception is, in some respects, the same. His doctrine of 

1 Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 
145-147. 2 73-78 Stephanus. 

8 The Dialogues of Plato, translated by Jowett, 1, 399, Charles Scribner's Sons, 
New York, 1885. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 217 

''shadowy recollections," which are ''a master-light of all our seeing," 
is similar to Plato's view ; but, with Wordsworth, these recollec- 
tions grow dimmer as life advances ; whereas Socrates, in Plato's 
'' Phaedo," seems to teach that the recollection of knowledge gained 
in a preexistent state is a progressive process of our earthly life. 

That Wordsworth was familiar with Plato's teachings on this 
point is evident from the Fenwick note already quoted. There, in 
defense of his own position, which seemed to have offended some 
"good and pious persons," he refers to the fact that a preexistent 
state "is known as an ingredient in Platonic philosophy," as well 
as having " entered into the popular creeds of many nations." But 
this hardly warrants us in saying that he borrowed his doctrine from 
Plato. The roots of the Poet's conviction seem to have been im- 
bedded in the subsoil of his trance-experiences of childhood, which 
gave him the consciousness of a world above, and more real than 
the natural world of sense. It is probable that this unique phenom- 
enon of his mystical consciousness, in the presence of which he 
stood in great awe, constituted for him both a psychological and 
a philosophical problem, and that, in trying to interpret this ex- 
perience to himself, and then to others, so far as it related to pre- 
existence, he found his conviction sanctioned by Plato. But the 
conviction itself appears ultimately to have had its origin in these 
unique experiences of childhood and youth, which were not only 
recalled, but repeated, in maturer years, although they did not then 
possess the vividness and splendor of the early trance. This ex- 
planation seems all the more probable because the consciousness of 
preexistence is not unusual in the mystic's trance. Tennyson, for 
example, tells us that both preexistence and immortality were present 
to consciousness in his trance-experiences as indubitable realities. ^ 

Students of Wordsworth have also raised the question whether 
some of the thoughts in the ode may not have been inspired by those 
of Henry Vaughan, a seventeenth-century mystical poet. That 

1 Alfred, Lord Tennyson, A Memoir, by his Son, I, 320, New York, 1897. See 
also The Ancient Sage. 



2 I 8 ^ WORDSWORTH 

Wordsworth was acquainted with Vaughan's ** Silex Scintillans " 
seems probable, as he owned a copy of it, and there is a similarity of 
thought in the two poets. Especially in the poem entitled "The 
Retreate ' ' does Vaughan embody reflections to which those of Words- 
worth's ode bear close resemblance. This will be manifest in com- 
paring certain portions of the ode with Vaughan's poem : 

Happy those early dayes, when I 
Shin'd in my angell-inf ancy ! 
Before I understood this place 
Appointed for my second race, 
Or taught my soul to fancy aught 
But a white, celestiall thought ; 
When yet I had not walkt above 
A mile or two from my first love, 
And looking back, at that short space, 
Could see a glimpse of his bright face ; 
When on some gilded cloud or fiowre 
My gazing soul would dwell an houre, 
And in those weaker glories spy 
Some shadows of eternity ; 
Before I taught my tongue to wound 
My conscience with a sinf ull sound, 
Or had the black art to dispence 
A sev'rall sinne to ev'ry sence, 
But felt through all this fleshly dresse 
Bright shootes of everlastingnesse. 

O how I long to travell back, 
And tread again that ancient track ! 
That I might once more reach that plaine. 
Where first I left my glorious traine ; 
From whence th' inlightned spirit sees 
That shady city of palme-trees. 
But ah ! my soul with too much stay 
Is drunk, and staggers in the way ! 
Some men a forward motion love, 
But I by backward steps would move ; 
And when this dust falls to the urn. 
In that state I came — return.^ 

1 The Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations of Henry Vaughan, 86-87, New 
York, 1854. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 219 

We seem to be largely dependent upon internal evidence in 
trying to determine the relation between the two poets.^ Words- 
worth's thoughts are indeed similar to Vaughan's, but the similarity 
is not so striking as to warrant a positive statement that the later 
poet was influenced by the earlier. Both express apparent belief in 
the preexistent state, and in the nearness of childhood to it ; that we 
get farther away from its glory as we grow older ; also, that certain 
things in this life give us hints of that previous life. Furthermore, 
both turn back with fond feelings to childhood, although Vaughan 
longs to go back and live it over again, while Wordsworth, in the 
ode, expresses no such desire. Both, too, express belief in immor- 
tality. However, in the case of beliefs so widely held as those of 
preexistence and immortality, it must not be regarded as strange 
that such similarity should exist in the reflections of two poets, or 
as conclusive evidence that Wordsworth was familiar with Vaughan, 
especially since the external evidence bearing on the question is so 
feeble. If we are to be guided by internal evidence alone, we might, 
with equal justification, say that Wordsworth was influenced by 
Thomas Traherne, another seventeenth-century mystic. In some 
respects the ode resembles Traherne's poem ''Wonder" more 
than any of Vaughan's. Especially is this so in the description of 
the world as it appears to the child-mind. To this must be added 
the similarity of views on preexistence, and of views concerning 
changes that take place in the child's view of Nature as he advances 
in age. Thus Traherne exclaims : 

How like an angel came I down ! 
How bright are all things here ! 
When first among His works I did appear 

Oh how their Glory me did crown ! 
The world resembled his Eternity^ 
In which my soul did walk ; 
And every thing that I did see 
Did with me talk. 

1 Wordsworth may have become acquainted with the English Neoplatonists 
while at Cambridge, or through Coleridge. 



220 WORDSWORTH 

The skies in their magnificence, 
The lively, lovely air, 
Oh how divine, how soft, how sweet, how fair ! 

The stars did entertain my sense. 
And all the works of God, so bright and pure. 
So rich and great did seem, 
As if they ever must endure 
In my esteem. 



The streets were paved with golden stones. 
The boys and girls were mine. 
Oh how did all their lovely faces shine ! 

The sons of men were holy ones. 
In joy and beauty they appeared to me. 
And every thing which here I found, 
While like an angel I did see, 
Adorned the ground. 

Rich diamond and pearl and gold 
In every place was seen ; 
Rare splendours, yellow, blue, red, white and green. 

Mine eyes did everywhere behold. 
Great Wonders clothed with glory did appear, 
Amazement was my bliss, 
That and my wealth was everywhere, 
No joy to this ! 

Cursed and devised proprieties 
With envy, avarice 
And fraud, those fiends that spoil even Paradise, 

Flew from the splendour of mine eyes. 
And so did hedges, ditches, limits, bounds, 
I dreamed not aught of those. 
But wandered over all men's grounds, 
And found repose. 

Proprieties themselves were mine. 
And hedges ornaments ; 
Walls, boxes, coffers, and their rich contents 
Did not divide my joys, but all combine. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 221 

Clothes, ribbons, jewels, laces, I esteemed 
My joys by others worn : 
For me they all to wear them seemed 
When I was born.^ 

In their views of childhood, also, Traherne and Wordsworth have 
much in common. These views are the common property of mysti- 
cal poets, and, in default of positive external evidence, it is the mark 
of wisdom not to impose on Wordsworth an obHgation to one or 
more of the seventeenth-century poets which he may not owe. It 
appears far more likely that his conceptions, as embodied in the 
ode, had their genesis in his own mystical consciousness, and 
especially in that unique form of its functioning which was present 
with him in childhood, which seemed to transfigure the physical 
world, and bring him into close contact with a transcendental world 
of Spirit — which seemed to carry the mind back to a preincarnate 
life ; and that, if he was influenced at all by Vaughan and others, 
it was only by way of confirmation of a belief which had already 
grown out of his own personal experience. , 

The mystical mood of Wordsworth took on several forms. In its 
exaggerated form it was a profound trance, in which the world of 
material things is canceled, is superseded by a world that seems to 
emanate from the depths of the soul's inner being — a transcend- 
ent, highly spiritualized world. This mood is often attended by 
exalted states of feeling, even of rapture. The envisagement of 
its content is so rich and intense that it carries with it a sublime 
sense of its reality, and the world thus apprehended is so mar- 
velous that the trance seems to be of the nature of an illumination 
or revelation in which the very heart of Reality is unveiled. So 
wonderful does it appear at times, that words fail in attempting to 
describe it. It is ineffable. Wordsworth's trance-experience took 
on this form more especially in childhood and youth. This mood, 
which is not uncommon with philosophic and religious mystics, and 

1 The Poetical Works of Thomas Traherne, ist edition, edited by Bertram 
Dobell, 4-7, London, 1903. See, also, his Centuries of Meditations, 158, London, 
1908. 



222 WORDSWORTH 

occasionally with poetic mystics also, sometimes assumes a still 
more extreme form, in which even the categories of thought appear 
to be canceled, and the consciousness of self seems to be submerged 
into a greater and more abstract consciousness. Among the philo- 
sophic mystics this may be seen in the Neoplatonists. Of the 
religious mystics, it is not uncommon among Buddhists and Chris- 
tians. Mystical poets, also, furnish striking illustrations of it, as 
in the case of Tennyson.^ Even Wordsworth, if we are to interpret 
what is said of the Wanderer, in the first book of '' The Excursion," 
as indicative of his own experience, was subject to this exaggerated 
form. The vanishing of the so-called world of corporeal things was 
not really the limit of the canceling power of his mysticism. In 
his profoundest moods he seemed almost to lose his identity as a 
self-conscious agent. The distinctions of thought were nearly oblit- 
erated by the tremendous tide of rapturous feeling that sometimes 
flooded his soul. This will be evident when we come to deal with 
his description of the Wanderer's youth, in which the Poet is un- 
doubtedly referring to his own personal experience. 

The '' saner " form of Wordsworth's mystical mood, however — 
which, indeed, was the predominating one — did not abolish the 
world of things, but enabled its subject to gain an insight into their 
essential life. And this insight was attended by such a feeling of 
reality that Nature, as possessed of Spirit, became with him an 
abiding faith. It also brought him into such close, conscious relation- 
ship with this Spirit (apprehended as immanent not only in Nature, 
but also in Man), that he seemed to divine its office as a fashioner, 
guide, tutor, comforter, and moral preceptor to the soul. And the 
apparent realness of his spiritual perception or intuition led him to 
regard it as of the nature of a revelation. It was a spiritual illumi- 
nation. So convinced was he of this, that he felt morally burdened 
with a message which he had to speak to men. He felt that he 
was to communicate not a mere fancy or dream, but a spiritual 
vision or spiritual interpretation of the world. Probably the finest 
1 The Ancient Sage ; see also Memoir, by his Son, I, 320, and II, 473. 



f ODE ON IMMORTALITY 223 

description of this saner mysticism of the Poet, and the noblest 

expression of the faith to which it gave rise, is to be found in the 

'' Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey/' where the 

mood is represented as 

that serene and blessed mood, 
In which the affections gently lead us on, — 
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 
And even the motion of our human blood 
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 
In body, and become a living soul : 
While with an eye made quiet by the power 
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 
We see into the life of things.^ 

In such a mood came the spiritual vision and intuition, with their 
sense of reality, and attended by, if not a rapturous, at least an 
exalted, joy : ^^^ I j^^^^ ^^^ 

A presence that disturbs me Mdth the joy 
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
Of something far more deeply interfused, 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean and the living air, 
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : 
A motion and a spirit, that impels 
All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things.^ 

That this mystical apprehension becomes to him a working faith 
is manifest in the love of Nature which, according to his own con- 
fession, results in the recognition of her as the anchor of his purest 
thoughts, the nurse, guide, and guardian of his heart, and the very 
soul of his moral being ;^ so that it is unquestionably true that 
Wordsworth's Nature-faith, or his belief in the spiritual nature of 
corporeal being, had its rise in his mystical constitution and 
experience. 

Psychologists differentiate between the sporadic moods of the 
mystic, which seem almost involuntarily produced, or flashed on or 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 41-48. 2 ibid., 93-102. 
* Ibid., 102-111. 



2 24 WORDSWORTH 

through the normal consciousness, and those which are super- 
induced by methods of cultivation, as is often the case in religious 
mysticism. Sometimes the moods of Wordsworth, especially in the 
early years, belonged to the former class. At times, too, they seem 
to have been superinduced by his fixed and intense gaze on physical 
objects, as, for example, is revealed in the poem **To Joanna," 
where the various '' delicious hues " fuse *' in one impression " as 
the result of his fixed perception ; that is, his mystical mood seems 
to be brought on by the fixedness of his gaze. Joanna notes the 
ravishment in his eyes, and laughs aloud, and then this mood, 
already present, impels the mind of the Poet to take up the voice, 
abstract it, and make it fill the very mountains. And so with the 
daffodils. He '' gazed and gazed," little thinking what wealth the 
sight had brought him. The sense-impressions were so intense, 
and the memory images resulting were so vivid, that often, in vacant 
or pensive moods, they would flash on the inward eye. And so, 
again, in the case of the cuckoo. The '' two-fold shout " arrests his 
attention, and, as he listens, the mood steals upon him, and soon the 
vale is full of sound ; the earth is unsubstantialized, and becomes a 
fairy-world. Sometimes, too, it seems as though the mood were 
superinduced by his method of poetical composition. As we have 
seen, Wordsworth had a keen sense of sight and of sound, and was 
a close and intense observer of things. As a result, his sense im- 
pressions were strong. These impressions would often transcend 
sense-limits, and become an object of intense, imaginative contem- 
plation. This contemplation was often suffused with either calm, 
or passionate, or rapturous feeling, which colored the object of the 
imagination. By some strange, peculiar, psychological mechanism, 
this process was transformed into poetic insight or intuition. He 
was thus enabled to '* see into the life of things." 

It may be, too, that at least his saner mysticism was not altogether 
unrelated to a kind of moral and spiritual preparation for his task. 
In a sense he, like other mystics, pursued a regimen in connec- 
tion with his work. Believing, as he did, in a Spirit of Nature, 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 225 

and in its relation to Man, he would often seek inspiration. He 
would indulge himself in a **wise passiveness." He would put 
himself in a receptive mood, and thus prepare the way for the 
approach of the Spirit. Then the inspiration came, and the lessons 
were imparted. Indeed, this was so in a larger sense. Feeling 
the importance and sacredness of his vocation, he pursued it with 
a conscientious mind. He endured much, and sacrificed much, 
for his art. He felt himself to be the High Priest of Nature, and 
the bearer of her message, and, in devotion to his high calling, he 
abjured society, and sought solitude. There was a kind of asceticism 
connected with his life at Alfoxden and Grasmere. By preparation 
he put himself into a proper mental and moral attitude for inspira- 
tion or illumination, whatever that vague, mysterious, and ultimately 
inexplicable thing may be. 

Such preparation or self-discipline, if not actually superinducing 
the mystic's mood, may at least have partly controlled or directed 
it. Throughout this prolific Grasmere period it may have been the 
trained mind and pure heart that helped him in no small measure 
in gaining a truer insight into Nature than was afforded by his 
extreme mystical moods, in which he was swamped by subjectivity. 
There are ethical momenta in knowledge. The normal man's 
moral development and moral attitude affect his perception of the 
truth. We see not only with the mind, but with the heart. A true 
science of knowledge recognizes this fact, and it is quite probable 
that the mystic's apprehension of truth and reality may be affected 
by this law. By his own confession Wordsworth felt himself to be 
the oracle of Nature, and he served before her altar with clean 
hands and a pure heart. 

The profound trance of Wordsworth's early years, then, was not 
the predominating one with him, nor were its revelations those 
which most affected his views of Reality, although they undoubtedly 
contributed much to the spiritual conception of things which became 
his faith. It was the less profound, but much '' saner," mood, in 
which the external world of things did not vanish, but had its inner 



2 26 WORDSWORTH 

nature revealed to the Poet's mystical soul as a Spiritual Life, that 
ultimately determined his ontological views, as well as, his belief in 
the relations of Nature to Man. And this is the mood that seemed 
to prevail during these years in Grasmere, and its intuitions are 
embodied in much of his best poetry — poetry full of inspiration 
and power. 

Emerson says that Wordsworth's '' ' Ode on Immortality ' is 
the high-water mark which the intellect has reached in this age. 
New means were employed, and new realms were added to the 
empire of the muse, by his courage." ^ This, of course, is extrava- 
gant, but it may be said that in this poem we approach the high- 
water mark of Wordsworth's genius as a poet. Indeed, Professor 
Saintsbury thinks we reach ** the summits of Wordsworth's poetry " 
in the ''Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey," 
and in this famous ode. He says that they are " poems of such 
astonishing magnificence that it is only more astonishing that any 
one should have read them and failed to see what a poet had come 
before the world." ^ So far as the content of the ode is con- 
cerned, it reveals him still to be the great lover and poet of Nature, 
beholding her with a mystical gaze, and seeing, with a penetrating 
vision, deep into her blessed life. It strongly hints, also, at the 
origin of ''the vision and the faculty divine," and sheds further 
light on his refined conception of material Reality. And, concern- 
ing Man, Wordsworth may still be seen as the lover and poet of 
Man — to such a degree, indeed, that he continues to look on 
Nature as he did when he wrote " Lines composed a few miles 
above Tintern Abbey," hearing "the still, sad music of humanity"; 
and to such an extent that even 

the meanest flower that blows can give 
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.^ 

1 Emerson, English Traits, 282, Boston, 1883. 

2 Saintsbury, A History of Nineteenth Century Literature, 54, New York and 
London, 1896. 

8 Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, 
206-207. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 227 

Before we close these chapters on the Grasmere period, several 
of the more conspicuous events in Wordsworth's life during his 
residence at Town-end ought to be mentioned, as they had a more 
or less direct influence on his life as a poet. These were, first, the 
publication of two new editions of the ''Lyrical Ballads," respectively 
in 1802 and 1805, which shows that he was not without appreciative 
readers. This fact could not have failed to give him encourage- 
ment in the pursuit of his art, although the sale of his works was 
not large enough to yield much more than was required to defray 
the expense of publication. 

Another event worthy of note was the death of the Earl of 
Lonsdale, in 1802. The Earl, as we have seen before, refused to 
pay a debt of ;£50oo, due the Wordsworths. After his death his 
successor not only paid the original amount, but also accrued 
interest of ;£35oo. Wordsworth's share of this amount was about 
;£i8oo. This, of course, placed him in a more independent posi- 
tion in a pecuniary way, and enabled him to pursue his work with 
less anxiety concerning the future. 

Still another event of importance was his marriage with Mary 
Hutchinson, his cousin, for many years an intimate friend of the 
Wordsworths. They were married October 4, 1802. Mrs. Words- 
worth proved to be a quiet force in the Poet's life. This is evident 
from his references to her in '* The Prelude " ; also in the two 
sonnets '*To a Painter," in the Dedication to ''The White Doe 
of Rylstone," and in the poem entitled " She was a Phantom of 
delight." Here she is represented as 

A Being breathing thoughtful breath, 
A Traveller between life and death ; 
The reason firm, the temperate will, 
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; 
A perfect Woman, nobly planned, 
To warn, to comfort, and command ; 
And yet a Spirit still, and bright 
With something of angelic light.^ 

^ She was a Phantom of delight, 23-30. 



228 WORDSWORTH 

Five children were born of this marriage : John, June i8, 1803 ; 
Dora, August 16, 1804; Thomas, June 16, 1806; Catherine, 
September 6, 1808 ; and WilHam, May 12, 18 10. Three of these 
died during the Poet's hfetime. 

During this period, as we have seen, another visit was made to 
France, in which he became keenly alive to the trend of political 
events, which, in turn, kindled his poetic fire and drew from him 
many of the noble sonnets '' Dedicated to National Independence 
and Liberty." 

The tour to Scotland with Dorothy and Coleridge must also be 
noted. It appealed to Wordsworth's poetic nature, and we have, 
as a result, a number of beautiful lyrical poems — '' Ellen Irwin, 
or, the Braes of Kirtle," '* To a Highland Girl," '* Stepping West- 
ward," ''The Solitary Reaper," ''Rob Roy's Grave," etc. Nature 
and the Poet were intimate friends on this tour. This is evident 
from the poems already considered, and also from Dorothy's Journal. 
The journey was undertaken because of their love for Nature, and 
resulted in furnishing suggestions and materials for many poems, 
some of which are regarded as among his most beautiful produc- 
tions. It was further signalized by a visit to Walter Scott. 

The death of his brother, Captain John Wordsworth, occurred 
during this period. This bereavement naturally impelled Words- 
worth to serious reflection on death and the future life. He came 
to the conclusion that the destruction of " the thinking principle " 
in man by death would involve a greater love in man than in God. 
Such a conclusion seemed to him inevitable " except upon the 
supposition of another and a better world." ^ The death of his 
brother inspired " Elegiac Verses." It did much more than this 
however. It brought him into closer sympathy with his fellows, 
and fitted him all the more to be a poet of Man. Does he not 
say, and is there not evidence of it in his work, 

A deep distress hath humanised my Soul ? 
1 Myers, Wordsworth, 71. 



ODE ON IMMORTALITY 229 

Finally, an event worthy of note, was the visit of Walter Scott 
and his wife to Dove Cottage. At this time Wordsworth, in com- 
pany with Scott and Sir Humphry Davy, all of them lovers of 
Nature, made an ascent of Helvellyn. This memorable excursion 
was referred to by Wordsworth, more than thirty years later, in 

'' Musings near Aquapendente ": 

His spirit 
Had flown with mine to old Helvellyn's brow, 
Where once together, in his day of strength, 
We stood rejoicing, as if earth were free 
From sorrow, like the sky above our heads.^ 

In nearly all of these events we can perceive the direct influence 
of either the natural or the human environment on the unfolding of 
Wordsworth's genius. They stir his poetic imagination to activity, 
and furnish suggestions and material for his work. They were 
events that broke the more or less peaceful tenor of the Poet's 
meditation during these long and happy years at Town-end, in the 
beautiful Grasmere Vale. 

Thus, in the tranquil life of Dove Cottage, and in the rambles 
among its surroundings, in fields and woods, over hills and moun- 
tains, and around the silver lake. Nature vouchsafed to Wordsworth 
beautiful visions, and spoke to him in a language full of inspiration 
and meaning, and burdened with a wholesome message, which he 
embodied in poetry of enduring worth. Here Nature is appre- 
hended as in the Alfoxden days, and the Poet's communion and 
inspirations merely confirm and intensify his former beliefs. 

Man, too, as he met him in these quiet haunts, occupying lowly 
stations, ministered to his spirit, and, as of old, he was led to 
exalt and idealize that which is fundamental in us. And ever and 
anon he lifted his eyes, and looked beyond the confines of the 
peaceful vale, to Man in higher stations, and in the great and 
stirring social and political movements of the time, sounding a 
note of warning, or a trumpet call in defense of his essential rights, 

^ Musings near Aquapendente, 61-65. 



230 WORDSWORTH 

and for the maintenance of those liberties which civiUzation had 
won through long years of struggle, and which, in the Poet's judg- 
ment, were to be preserved at all hazards. For this sacred cause 
he contended in verse, not merely as a lover of his own country, 
but as *' a patriot of the world," and the sonnets inspired by these 
important events constitute one of the chief glories of Words- 
worth's poetry. It was verse like this that led a fellow poet to 
say : *' He was the heroic poet of his age : so long as there lives 
one man of English blood who has any sense of noble poetry, that 
blood will thrill and tingle in his veins at the very thought of the 
trumpet-notes of Wordsworth. . . . Those other poets of his day 
who dealt more immediately than he with martial matter had in 
them less of heroic thought and intelligence than the seemingly 
self -centered student of uninvaded solitudes. Scott could make 
men breathe the breath of battle. Byron could only make men 
smell the reek of carnage ; but Wordsworth alone could put into 
his verse the whole soul of a nation armed or arming for self- 
devoted self-defence ; could fill his meditation with the spirit of a 
whole people, that in the act of giving it a voice and an expression 
he might inform and renovate that spirit with the purity and sub- 
limity of his own. Therefore, and on this account above all others, 
may his immortal words of sympathy find immortal application to 
himself : there is not a breathing of the common wind which blows 
over England that ever shall forget him ; his memory has great 
allies : he too has friends in the exultations and the agonies of his 
fellowmen, in their love of country, in the unconquerable mind of 
his race." ^ 

^ Swinburne, Miscellanies, Essay on Wordsworth and Byron, London, 1886. 



CHAPTER XIV 
COLEORTON. STOCKTON-ON-TEES. ALLAN BANK 

After six years' residence at Town-end, Wordsworth moved to 
Coleorton. With a gradually increasing family the Poet and his 
household began to feel the accommodations of Dove Cottage to 
be inadequate. Sir George and Lady Beaumont were friends of 
the Wordsworths, and from time to time, between the years 1803 
and 1806, visited the modest home in Grasmere. In 1806 the 
Beaumonts temporarily withdrew from their farmhouse adjoining 
Coleorton Hall, and offered it to their Grasmere friends, who 
occupied it during the winter of 1806- 1807. 

As in previous places of abode, so here Nature called forth the 
poetic activity of this unique man who was so peculiarly sensitive 
to her subtle power. Wordsworth found himself in a region re- 
markable for beauty and sublimity, and we have his own statement 
testifying to the fact that his genius was stimulated, and its pro- 
ductions colored, by his local surroundings. In the Epistle Dedi- 
catory, inscribing to Sir George the first collected edition of his 
poems, published in 181 5, Wordsworth writes: ''My dear Sir 
George, — Accept my thanks for the permission given me to 
dedicate these Poems to you. In addition to a lively pleasure de- 
rived from general considerations, I feel a particular satisfaction ; 
for, by inscribing them with your name, I seem to myself in some 
degree to repay, by an appropriate honour, the great obligation 
which I owe to one part of the Collection — as having been the 
means of first making us personally known to each other. Upon 
much of the remainder, also, you have a peculiar claim, — for 
some of the best pieces were composed under the shade of your 

own groves, upon the classic ground of Coleorton ; where I was 

231 



232 WORDSWORTH 

animated by the recollection of those illustrious Poets of your Name 
and Family, who were born in that neighbourhood ; and, we may 
be assured, did not wander with indifference by the dashing stream 
of Grace Dieu, and among the rocks that diversify the forest of 
Charnwood. Nor is there any one to whom such parts of this 
Collection as have been inspired or coloured by the beautiful country 
from which I now address you, could be presented with more pro- 
priety than to yourself — who have composed so many admirable 
Pictures from the suggestions of the same scenery. Early in life, 
the sublimity and beauty of this region excited your admiration ; 
and I know that you are bound to it in mind by a still strengthen- 
ing attachment."^ In another letter written to Sir George in 
November, 1806, we find him rejoicing in the beauty of his sur- 
roundings.2 Dorothy, too, writes enthusiastically to Lady Beau- 
mont, and her letters tell of her brother's delight in Nature.^ 

However, of the poems composed here, there are no real Nature- 
poems. The so-called Inscriptions to the Coleorton grounds 
can hardly be called such, and, indeed, only a few of them were 
written here. But there is a notable lyric, composed during these 
winter months, entitled " Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, 
upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the 
Estates and Honours of his Ancestors," which must be considered. 
It celebrates the restoration of Lord Clifford to the ancestral honors 
and estates of which he had been deprived for nearly a quarter of 
a century, during which time he followed the life of a shepherd in 
Yorkshire or Cumberland. It is one of Wordsworth's best lyrics, 
and, according to some of his critics, one of the noblest in the 
English language. Professor Reed, Wordsworth's American friend, 
said : *' Had the Poet never written another ode, this alone would 
set him at the head of the lyric poets of England." 

The poem, although not a poem of Nature, reveals Wordsworth's 
continued belief in Nature's power over the human mind. The 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, II, 55. 2 ibid., 76-79. 

8 Ibid., 79-81. 



SONG AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE 233 

first part of the minstrel's song presents the forlorn condition of 
the hero and his mother pursued by the slain father's foe. Next, 
it presents him as a youth, leading the life of a shepherd, wander- 
ing from hill to hill, but enjoying and profiting by the loving 
sympathy, and gladsome ministry, of Nature : 

— Again he wanders forth at will, 

And tends a flock from hill to hill : 

His garb is humble ; ne'er was seen 

Such garb with such a noble mien ; 

Among the shepherd-grooms no mate 

Hath he, a Child of strength and state ! 

Yet lacks not friends for simple glee, 

Nor yet for higher sympathy. 

To his side the fallow-deer 

Came, and rested without fear ; 

The eagle, lord of land and sea, 

Stooped down to pay him fealty ; 

And both the undying fish that swim 

Through Bowscale-tarn did wait>on him ; 

The pair were servants of his eye 

In their immortality ; 

And glancing, gleaming, dark or bright, 

Movedato and fro, for his delight. 

He knew the rocks which Angels haunt 

Upon the mountains visitant ; 

He hath kenned them taking wing : 

And into caves where Faeries sing 

He hath entered ; and been told 

By Voices how men lived of old. 

Among the heavens his eye can see 

The face of thing that is to be ; 

And, if that men report him right, 

His tongue could whisper words of might.^ 

The minstrel's song next presents the dawn of another day — 
the day of revenge — that calls on the young man to avenge his 
father's death and his deposition from the honors and estates of 
his ancestors. Wordsworth, however, makes a sudden turn in the 

1 Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, 1 10-137. 



234 WORDSWORTH 

poem. On the part of the youth we find no such response as the 
call of the song would lead us to expect. From Nature and mis- 
fortune he had learned a nobler lesson than revenge. The savage 
instincts of the race had died within him ; so also had *' all fero- 
cious thoughts." The Poet is still preoccupied with his old and 
favorite theme of Nature's tutorial relation to the mind, and her 
ethical influence upon human life. 

Alas ! the impassioned minstrel did not know 

How, by Heaven's grace, this Clifford's heart was framed : 

How he, long forced in humble walks to go, * 

Was softened into feeling, soothed, and tamed. 

Love had he found in huts where poor men lie ; 
His daily teachers had been woods and rills, 
The silence that is in the starry sky, 
The sleep that is among the lonely hills. 

In him the savage virtue of the Race, 
Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead : 
Nor did he change ; but kept in lofty place 
The wisdom which adversity had bred. 

Glad were the vales, and every cottage-hearth ; 
The Shepherd-lord was honoured more and more ; 
And, ages after he was laid in earth, 
" The good Lord Clifford " was the name he bore.^ 

As Sarah Coleridge says, in a note in her edition of her father*s 
** Biographia Literaria " : *' The beautiful and impressive aspects of 
nature are brought into relationship with the spirit of him whose 
fortunes and character form the subject of the piece, and are repre- 
sented as gladdening and exalting it, whilst they keep it pure and 
unspotted from the world '"^ In other words, here again Words- 
worth is giving expression to his belief that Nature is a great moral 
teacher of the human heart. 

If we turn, next, to an interesting piece of Wordsworth's prose 
in the form of a letter written during this brief stay at Coleorton, 

1 Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, 157-172. 

2 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, IV, 97 n. 



POLITICAL SONNETS 235 

describing plans for a winter-garden which Lady Beaumont had 
asked him to lay out, his careful observation of Nature is again 
noticeable. The detailed description to be found in this letter shows 
a minuteness of observation that is quite remarkable. It illustrates 
what was made evident in the letter written to Coleridge, describing 
the journey from Alfoxden to Grasmere Vale, that, while Words- 
worth often viewed Nature with a peculiar insight into her essential 
life, and frequently apprehended her in her spiritual unity, he also 
studied her in detail — in her particularity, determining the aesthetic 
values of specific objects, and apprehending, as well as glorying in, 
her external form. It is noticeable, too, how he had studied the 
poets with reference to these peculiarities, for in this letter he refers 
to Chaucer, Thomson, Bums, and Grahame in illustration of some 
point in their appreciation of Nature which he himself emphasizes. 
In reading the works of his brother poets his eye seemed eager to 
note their attitude toward the natural world. The letter to Lady 
Beaumont is purely local in character, and can hardly be regarded 
as laying down general principles for landscape gardening. But it 
is of interest to us in throwing a sidelight on one aspect of Words- 
worth's attitude toward Nature at this time. The poet, as well as 
the landscape artist, is seen in this epistle. In fact, the poet of 
Nature is really behind the landscape gardener.^ 

But, although quietly housed during these winter months, far 
away from the political strife of the times, and surrounded by the 
calm and peace of Nature in this delightful spot, Wordsworth did 
not lose sight of Man. He was alive to current events, and kept a 
steady eye on the ambitious movements of the French monarch. 
Several sonnets belonging to this brief period were inspired by the 
Poet's interest in the political movements of his time. One is en- 
titled '' A Prophecy." It was suggested by the action of Frederick 
Augustus, Elector of Saxony, who made a treaty with Napoleon, in 
which he showed himself to be in league with France. The sonnet 

1 Memoirs of Coleorton, edited by William Knight, I, 191-209, Boston and 
New York, 1887. 



236 WORDSWORTH 

pronounces woe upon the '' Bavarian " who was the ''first open traitor 
to the German name." 

A better-known sonnet, and one, too, which Wordsworth regarded 
as the best he had written up to this time, and which, according 
to Crabb Robinson, he desired to become popular, is entitled 
" Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland." Like 
the preceding sonnet, it belongs to the poems '' Dedicated to Na- 
tional Independence and Liberty." Napoleon, who by this time had 
conquered practically the entire Continent, evidently continued to 
be a source of anxiety to Wordsworth. In the sonnet the Poet calls 
attention to the fruitless efforts of the Swiss in their fight against 
the invader. But, though Liberty be driven from her memorable 
mountain home, and be thus bereft of the mighty Voice of the 
mountains — one of the two great Voices in which she has always 
rejoiced — she is enjoined by the Poet to cleave to the mighty 
Voice that still remains — the Voice of the sea. 

What sorrow would it be 
That Mountain floods should thunder as before, 
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore, 
And neither awful Voice be heard by thee ! ^ 

The quiet life at Coleorton was, at times, pleasantly interrupted 
by a visit of some distinguished friend. In 1806 Coleridge 
returned to London from the Continent, and in December went 
to Coleorton to see his friends. On this occasion *' The Prelude " 
was read to him by Wordsworth. '' Lines to William Wordsworth," 
which Coleridge wrote in response, was ''composed for the greater 
part on the same night after the finishing of his recitation of the 
Poem, in Thirteen Books, on the growth of his own mind," and 
the last verse of this response records the deep impression Words- 
worth's metrical autobiography made upon his brother-poet — an 
impression so profound that when he had finished reading it he 
found himself in prayer. 

1 Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzerland, 11-14. 



THE WHITE DOE OF RYLSTONE 237 

In the spring of 1807 the Wordsworths were favored with an- 
other visit of Walter Scott, who joined Wordsworth and his 
wife at London and accompanied them to Coleorton. Nothing 
more of import relating to the life of our Poet at this countryseat 
remains to be recorded. He returned with his family to Grasmere 
early in the autumn of 1807. On the last day of November of the 
same year he left Grasmere for Stockton-on-Tees, to visit the 
Hutchinsons. Here he composed about one half of the poem 
entitled ''The White Doe of Rylstone." He returned to Dove 
Cottage just before Christmas, 1807, where the first draft of it 
was completed in February, 1808. This unique poem is concerned 
with one of the most serious problems of Man — the problem of 
human suffering — and in it we see that '' terrible strength " which 
is so often to be found in Wordsworth. 

The poem relates the story of the fate of the Nortons in the 
insurrection resulting from Queen Elizabeth's action when she 
learned that certain Scottish and English nobles were secretly 
negotiating for the marriage of Mary Queen of Scots to the Duke 
of Norfolk. The conflict really represented an uprising of the 
Roman Catholics against the Government. Two of the Norton 
family (Emily and Francis) were Protestants, and were unwilling that 
their father and brother (who were Catholics) should identify them- 
selves with the hostile movement, in which they finally lost their 
lives. Francis, too, was slain in attempting to carry out his father's 
last wish that he should try to regain the standard borne by the 
insurrectionists in the conflict, and, taking it to Bolton Priory, 
place it on Saint Mary's Shrine. According to the poem, hav- 
ing been warned of the inevitable by her brother Francis, poor 
Emily's duty throughout these times was 

to stand and wait ; 
In resignation to abide 
The shock, and finally secure 
O'er pain and grief a triumph pure.^ 

1 The White Doe of Rylstone, 1069-1072. 



238 WORDSWORTH 

After the shock in all of its force had come, she was helped, in 
a measure, to endure it through the apparent sympathy and devo- 
tion of a white doe which became her life-companion. Suffering 
gradually did its perfect work. Emily was 

By sorrow lifted towards her God ; 
Uplifted to the purest sky 
Of undisturbed mortality.^ 

In the poem Wordsworth aims at an ethical and spiritual inter- 
pretation of suffering. This is evident from the poem itself, as we 
have seen, and also from his own explanation of it. In the '* Adver- 
tisement " Wordsworth explains wherein it differs from certain 
poems of Walter Scott with which it has been compared, both 
poets dealing with subjects taken from feudal times. He points 
out the spiritual significance of his own work. " Sir Walter," he 
says, '* pursued the customary and very natural course of conducting 
an action, presenting various turns of fortune, to some outstanding 
point on which the mind might rest as a termination or catas- 
trophe. The course I have attempted to pursue is entirely different. 
Everything that is attempted by the principal personages in " The 
White Doe " fails, so far as its object is external and substantial. 
So far as it is moral and spiritual it succeeds. The heroine of the 
poem knows that her duty is not to interfere with the current of 
events, either to forward or delay them, but 

to abide 
The shock, and finally secure 
O'er pain and grief a triumph pure.^ 

This she does in obedience to her brother's injunction, as most 
suitable to a mind and character that, under previous trials, has 
been proved to accord with his. She achieves this not without aid 
from the communication with the inferior Creature, which often 
leads her thoughts to revolve upon the past with a tender and 
humanising influence that exalts rather than depresses her. The 
anticipated beatification, if I may so say, of her mind, and the 

1 The White Doe of Rylstone, 1851-1853. ^ ibid., 1070-1072. 



THE WHITE DOE OF RYLSTONE 239 

apotheosis of the companion of her soHtude, are the points at which 
the Poem aims, and constitute its legitimate catastrophe, far too 
spiritual a one for instant or widely spread sympathy, but not, 
therefore, the less fitted to make a deep and permanent impression 
upon that class of minds who think and feel more independently, 
than the many do, of the surfaces of things and interests transitory, 
because belonging more to the outward and social forms of life 
than to its internal spirit. How insignificant a thing, for example, 
does personal prowess appear compared with the fortitude of 
patience and heroic martyrdom ; in other words, with struggles for 
the sake of principle, in preference to victory gloried in for its 
own sake." ^ 

This poem is really a remarkable portrayal of human patience 
and strength in the presence of an inexorable fate. Wordsworth, 
in his long years of struggle with the course of events during the 
French Revolution, in his anxiety about the seemingly inevitable 
outcome of the situation which the nations of Europe were confront- 
ing at the time this poem was written, in his personal struggles 
with Fortune, in his deep affliction caused by the death of his 
beloved brother, must have schooled his own spirit to an unusual 
degree of submission to the bald and unavoidable realism of life. 
Otherwise he never could have presented such a picture of sublime 
resignation. Lord Morley says that '' Wordsworth had not rooted 
in him the sense of Fate — of the inexorable sequences of things, 
of the terrible chain that so often binds an awful end to some slight 
and trivial beginning." ^ Just the opposite, nevertheless, is some- 
times seen in Wordsworth, despite his optimism. His optimism is 
not blind, and does not fail to reckon with things as they are, and 
with the inevitableness of the law of sequence, whether in Nature 
or in the human world. This is seen in poems like *'Ruth," ''The 
Ruined Cottage," "The Affliction of Margaret ," in certain 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, IV, ioi-i02n. 

2 Morley, The Complete Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, p. Ixvi, New 
York, 1908. 



240 WORDSWORTH 

portions of '' The Excursion," and it ia preeminently manifest in 
the poem under consideration. 

Life, according to Wordsworth, grows strong by meeting just 
such situations as '* The White Doe of Rylstone " describes. Calm, 
patient, heroic, lofty resignation is the lesson to be learned. Suffer- 
ing plays its part in the human economy. It cannot be escaped. 
We are not to try to flee from it. It must be met, and met heroi- 
cally. It makes for character if properly borne. To stand and wait, 
to abide, resignedly, the shock, and thus attain a pure triumph 
over grief and pain is our duty and privilege. But sorrow, the Poet 
teaches, may be a means not only of moral development, but also 
of spiritual elevation. By it the soul is brought nearer to God. 
This is the Poet's philosophy of suffering.^ 

But even in such sorrow Nature breathes her word of comfort. 
Even here, where Wordsworth is dealing with an intensely human 
picture of the inexorable in human suffering, he does not fail to 
bring in his favorite theme of the ministry of Nature to the soul. 
She does not forget poor Emily. Through the white doe Nature 
ministers to her. 

This masterpiece of Wordsworth is of peculiar interest to his 
mental and spiritual biographer, for it reveals how the Poet was 
gradually changing his mental and spiritual attitude toward Nature. 
The stress of life, especially as revealed in human suffering, led 
him more and more to make Man, and especially Human Life, 
the object of his consideration. To work out a philosophy of Life 
seems to have been the problem preeminently before his mind 
at this time. This poem should be studied in connection with 
*' The Excursion," which was also in process of composition dur- 
ing the three years covered by the writing of " The White Doe of 
Rylstone." And, of course, the problem of life, especially as it 
relates to human suffering, was one of the chief concerns of the 
Poet in '' The Excursion." It is interesting, too, to note how, grad- 
ually, Wordsworth was drifting away from an apparent acceptance 
1 The White Doe of Rylstone, 1852-1853. 



THE WHITE DOE OF RYLSTONE 24 1 

of the sufficiency of Nature, as manifested in his previous poetry, 
to a recognition of the necessity of rehgion. He recognizes the 
aid of Nature, but her ministry hardly seems sufficient. As a 
rational being Man needs some sort of an explanation of suffer- 
ing ; its meaning is demanded ; and Wordsworth finds this mean- 
ing in the end which it subserves. It develops character, and lifts 
the soul nearer to God. This, however, he seems to gather from 
the religious consciousness of Man, rather than from Nature or 
from Reason. Religious faith solves the problem. This is empha- 
sized not only in the lines quoted above, which tell how Emily was 
sanctified through suffering ; how she was 

By sorrow lifted towards her God ; 
Uplifted to the purest sky 
Of undisturbed mortality ; ^ 

but also, as we shall soon see, in '' The Excursion," and in a 
sonnet composed a little later (probably in 18 15), which precedes 
an extract from Lord Bacon, relating to those who '' deny a God." 
This extract, with the sonnet, appeared in connection with '' The 
White Doe of Rylstone " in the quarto edition of 1 8 1 $ .2 The sonnet 

reads: 

" Weak is the will of Man, his judgment blind ; 
Remembrance persecutes, and Hope betrays ; 
Heavy is woe ; — and joy, for human-kind, 
A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze ! " 
Thus might /^e paint our lot of mortal days 
Who wants the glorious faculty assigned 
To elevate the more-than-reasoning Mind, 
And colour life's dark cloud with orient rays. 
Imagination is that sacred power, 
Imagination lofty and refined : 
'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower 
Of Faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind 
Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, 
And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind. 

1 The White Doe of Rylstone, 1851-1853. 

2 See Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, IV, 105 n. 



242 WORDSWORTH 

Man's mind is something more than rational intellect. It is imagi- 
nation, and imagination, in the presence of "our lot of mortal 
days," leads to Faith. Still later, in 1837, he quoted six lines con- 
cerning suffering (from **The Borderers," Act III, 15 39-1 544), 
and added to them seven more, in which he again took the religious 
attitude. These thirteen lines were attached to the Dedication of 
''The White Doe of Rylstone " in 1837. The lines are as follows : 

" Action is transitory — a step, a blow, 

The motion of a muscle — this way or that — 

'T is done ; and in the after-vacancy 

We wonder at ourselves like men betrayed : 

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark. 

And has the nature of infinity. 

Yet through that darkness (infinite though it seem 

And irremoveable) gracious openings lie, 

By which the soul — with patient steps of thought 

Now toiling, wafted now on wings of prayer — 

May pass in hope, and, though from mortal bonds 

Yet undelivered, rise with sure ascent 

Even to the fountain-head of peace divine." 

This change of attitude toward Nature, and this recognition of reli- 
gious faith as the *' one adequate support for the calamities of 
mortal life," will be more manifest when we come to deal with 
" The Excursion " in detail. It is an interesting and significant 
fact in the mental and spiritual evolution of the Poet. 

Wordsworth's movements between February and June, 1808, 
are difficult to determine. They depended largely on Coleridge, 
who was in wretched health. In March he visited London to see 
his friend. The inadequate accommodations of Dove Cottage made 
it necessary for the Wordsworths to find a new home, so they 
moved from Town-end to Allan Bank in June, 1808. The years 
spent there are very interesting, although they did not witness much 
in the way of poetical composition. Wordsworth's mind was ex- 
ceedingly active at this time, and both Nature and Man were the 
subjects engaging his attention. But Man was preeminently the 
object of interest, as we see in his correspondence and prose 



THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA 243 

compositions, as well as in several political sonnets belonging to this 
period. Owing largely to the conduct of the French, political con- 
ditions in England and on the Continent were such that Words- 
worth became deeply engrossed in them. 

This intense interest in the political welfare of Man lies at the 
basis of much of his poetical activity, as is evident from the 
'' Poems dedicated to National Independence and Liberty," many 
of which were composed during the years spent at Allan Bank. 
How intense and absorbing it was at this time can be fully appre- 
ciated only through an examination of his essay ''The Conven- 
tion of Cintra," and his private letters written to the editor of Tke 
Courier, to Captain Pasley, Miss Fenwick, and others, besides 
the political sonnets composed here. Concerning the political tract 
just referred to. Professor Knight says : ''A study of this essay 
— and it deserves to be studied, not only for the wisdom it con- 
tains, but for the splendour of its form — will dispel the notion 
that Wordsworth was a mere recluse student of Nature, little in- 
terested in human affairs and the aspirations of oppressed nation- 
alities. It was from a certain vantage ground, as a dweller amid the 
mountains away from the strife of parties, that he was best able to 
judge of these things." ^ Furthermore, in a letter to Miss Fenwick, 
Wordsworth himself says : *' It would not be easy to conceive with 
what a depth of feeling I entered into the struggle carried on by 
the Spaniards for their deliverance from the usurped power of the 
French. Many times have I gone from Allan Bank in Grasmere 
Vale, where we were then residing, to the Raise-Gap, as it is called, 
so late as two o'clock in the morning, to meet the carrier bringing 
the newspaper from Keswick. Imperfect traces of the state of mind 
in which I then was may be found in my tract on the Convention 
of Cintra, as well as in the ' Sonnets dedicated to Liberty.' " ^ 

The Convention of Cintra was an agreement, signed at Cintra, 
in which the French, who were waging war in Spain and Portugal, 
and who had been defeated at Vimeiro by Sir Arthur Wellesley, 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, II, 126. ^ Memoirs, I, 383. 



244 WORDSWORTH 

agreed to withdraw from Portugal to France, on condition that they 
should be permitted to retire without sacrifice of arms or other 
effects. The signing of this agreement by the British generals 
caused widespread indignation in England, and the Government 
was compelled to court-martial them. The trial, however, ended 
in their acquittal.^ Wordsworth's essay, according to the *' Adver- 
tisement" prefacing it, ''originated in the opposition which was 
made by his Majesty's ministers to the expression in public meet- 
ings and otherwise, of the opinions and feelings concerning the 
Convention of Cintra." ^ It was written in November and Decem- 
ber, 1808, but its printing and publication were delayed so that it 
did not appear before the latter part of May, 1809. It is an unusual 
tract, and ranks high as a piece of prose literature. Charles Lamb, 
writing to Coleridge, said : ''Its power over me was like that which 
Milton's pamphlets must have had on his contemporaries, who were 
tuned to them. What a piece of prose ! " ^ It is said that Canning 
thought it " the most eloquent production since the days of Burke." * 
The elaborate title of the pamphlet indicates its content. It reads: 
" Concerning the Relation of Great Britain, Spain, and Portugal, 
to each other, and to the Common Enemy, at this crisis ; and 
specifically as affected by the Convention of Cintrai: the whole 
brought to the test of those Principles, by which alone the Inde- 
pendence and Freedom of Nations can be Preserved and Recov- 
ered." ^ In the essay he traces the history of the English and the 
Spaniards in their alliance against the French (who were seeking, 
in the peninsular war, to subjugate Spain and Portugal), emphasizing 
specially the moral basis of the union, and the supremacy of moral 
over physical force, the tyranny of the French, and the humiliation 
and suffering of the Spanish and Portuguese. He then calls atten- 
tion to the fact that when the British had defeated the French at 
Vimeiro, and were apparently in a position to put a speedy end to 

1 Knight, The Life of William Wordsworth, II, 127. 

2 Prose Works, edited by William Knight, I, iii. ^ Memoirs, I, 404 n. 
* Ibid., 403. ^ Prose Works, edited by William Knight, I, 109, 



THE CONVENTION OF CINTRA 245 

Napoleon's aggressions, their generals entered into a treaty by 
which the French alone actually profited, and in which the Spanish 
and Portuguese received less consideration than the common enemy. 
He vigorously protests against the action of the generals, accuses 
them of having exceeded their authority, discourses on the feelings 
of sorrow and indignation which their conduct aroused in England, 
and remarks on the attitude of the Government against the people 
in their expression of sorrow and righteous anger. In all of this 
Wordsworth's soul seems to be on fire with the moral aspects of 
the case, and his language breathes a noble spirit. Virtually from 
the beginning he manifests a righteous indignation at what seems 
to him a great injustice both to England and to her allies involved 
in the treaty. The paper does, indeed, resemble, in spirit at least, 
Milton's vigorous pamphlets. 

Wordsworth wrote several sonnets while he was writing this prose 
essay. One, written in 1808 and published in 181 5, bears the long 
title *' Composed while the Author was engaged in Writing a Tract 
— occasioned by the Convention of Cintra, 1808." Here he con- 
siders the fate of Spain in the light of Napoleon's ambitious pro- 
gram. Not in the midst of a slavish, selfish, human world, but in 
the sublime school of Nature, does he weigh '* the hopes and fears 
of suffering Spain." He bears on his heart the wrong and in- 
justice done to this oppressed people, and tries to determine, with 
a measure of hope, what Time may bring to them. 

The second sonnet, also published in 181 5, is entitled "Com- 
posed at the same Time and on the same Occasion." It refers 
to the fate of his political tract. He predicts that the world will 
manifest the same indifference to it that men asleep manifest 
toward a raging storm. Still, some anxious hearts will give heed 
to its hopeful prophecy, that out of the storm '' bright calms " will 
ultimately emerge. 

In 1809 Wordsworth wrote fourteen sonnets which belong to 
the class ''dedicated to National Independence and Liberty." They 
indicate how intensely interested he was in the political situation 



246 WORDSWORTH 

of the time, and how anxiously his mind and heart were fixed on 
the Uberties of those who were the victims of Napoleon's campaign 
of subjugation. We see in them a real lover of Man, and an un- 
compromising champion of universal justice. Six of these sonnets 
relate to the Tyrolese, and celebrate, for the most part, their resist- 
ance of the French. The first of them is addressed to Hofer, the 
principal leader of the Tyrolese, and memorializes the leadership 
of the ''godlike warrior," and the bravery of his undaunted fol- 
lowers. The second, beginning ''Advance — come forth from thy 
Tyrolean ground," is a spirited address to Liberty to advance and 
move through the long chain of the Alps. The third, " Feelings 
of the Tyrolese," exploits the firm conviction of these brave people 
that it is their duty, " with weapons grasped in fearless hands," to 
assert their virtue, and " to vindicate mankind." The fourth, be- 
ginning "Alas ! what boots the long laborious quest," questions the 
value of knowledge " to elevate the will," and make the passions 
subservient to reason, in view of the fact that "sapient Germany," 
with all her great schools of learning, must lie depressed " beneath 
the brutal sword." In contrasting her action with that of the 
Tyrolese, he says : 

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules, 
Among the herdsmen of the Alps, have wrought 
More for mankind at this unhappy day 
Than all the pride of intellect and thought.^ 

The fifth sonnet, " On the Final Submission of the Tyrolese," is 
a fine tribute to the moral purpose which animated those brave 
shepherds in their struggle against the invader. In the last sonnet 
of this group, "The martial courage of a day is vain," the Poet 
reproaches Austria for her action in ceding the Tyrol to France. 

The remaining sonnets, belonging to the year 1809, all deal 
with the political conditions of the time. Most of them laud 
heroes that would not yield to Napoleon, such as Palafox and his 
band, the heroic defenders of Saragossa ; Schill, the brave Prussian, 

* Alas ! what boots the long laborious quest, 11-14. 



POLITICAL SONNETS 247 

who strove to liberate Germany from the power of the French; 
also Gustavus IV, the Swede, who ''never did to Fortune bend 
the knee," and whose conduct in this respect is contrasted with 
Napoleon's in still another sonnet, beginning ''Look now on that 
Adventurer who hath paid." 

If we omit the epitaphs translated from Chiabrera (nine in 
number), and the work done from time to time on "The Ex- 
cursion," nearly all of Wordsworth's poetic activity in 18 10 was 
engaged with political sonnets. Like those of the previous year, 
they relate almost entirely to political events on the Continent, and 
the brave resistance of the Spaniards to Napoleon. 

These sonnets, like all of those "dedicated to National Independ- 
ence and Liberty," evince intense loyalty to Man as Man. There 
is no partisanship here, no provincial patriotism, no circumscribed 
love of freedom. Wordsworth loves liberty and justice not merely 
as an Englishman, but as a man, and for all men. They belong 
to men as men, and the Poet's soul is aflame with indignation 
when men are ruthlessly stripped of them, whether they be his 
compatriots or not. 

If, in conclusion, we review these years spent at Coleorton, 
Stockton-on-Tees, and Allan Bank, it may be said that they merely 
repeat the old story of Wordsworth contemplating Nature, and 
apprehending her, as heretofore, to be on intimate terms with 
Man. Especially does he emphasize her moralizing influence. It 
must be evident by this time, that Wordsworth does not conceive 
of Nature as exercising a moral influence on the human soul merely 
through natural laws, which somehow make for righteousness. His 
conception is much more personal than this. There is a mighty 
Spirit in things, akin to the spirit of Man, interested in his moral 
life, ministering to it in admonition and love, and leading it into 
righteousness and truth. 

This, however, is a period in which Man is conspicuously supreme 
in his heart. During these years he is just as ardently the " patriot 
of the world " as in the early part of the French Revolution, if not, 



248 WORDSWORTH 

indeed, more so. He watches the course of events in Europe with 
profound emotion and anxious thought. Man is dear to his soul, 
and the glorious principles of liberty and independence are con- 
ceived of as his essential birthright. They are his priceless pos- 
sessions, and the Poet's soul is stirred with just and profound 
indignation as he notes them threatened by the aggressions of a 
mighty Power — a Power apparently bent on subjugating the 
civilized world ; hence the superb sonnets of this period, breathing 
love of liberty and love of Man, and hurling powerful denunciations 
at tyranny and the tyrant. The history of poetry abounds in names 
writ large and imperishable in the annals of Freedom, and these 
sonnets of Wordsworth entitle his name to a conspicuous place 
on this glorious roll of Immortals. 



CHAPTER XV 
THE EXCURSION 

We have already seen that Wordsworth, while still living in 
Racedown and Alfoxden, had in mind the composition of an elab- 
orate philosophical poem on " Man, Nature and Society." It was 
to be entitled **The Recluse." In our interpretation of '*The 
Prelude " we noticed how this autobiographical poem was to con- 
stitute the first part of the work. It was to be a preparatory poem 
conducting '*the history of the Author's mind to the point when 
he was emboldened to hope that his faculties were sufficiently 
matured for entering upon the arduous labour which he had pro- 
posed to himself; and the two Works have the same kind of 
relation to each other, if he may so express himself, as the ante- 
chapel has to the body of a Gothic church." ^ In the preface to 
'* The Excursion " the author tells us that ''his minor Pieces, which 
have been before the Public, when they shall be properly arranged, 
will be found by the attentive Reader to have such connection with 
the main Work as may give them claim to be likened to the little 
cells, oratories, and sepulchral recesses, ordinarily included in those 
edifices." ^ *' The Recluse " itself was to consist of three parts. 
The first and third parts were to be composed '' chiefly of medita- 
tions in the Author's own person." '*The Excursion" was to 
constitute the second or intermediate part, the main features of 
which were to be the '* intervention of characters speaking," and 
the adoption of '' something of a dramatic form." ^ 

''The Recluse," as thus planned, was never completed. As 
previously stated, the First Part of Book I was left in manuscript. 

1 The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, edited by Thomas Hutch- 
inson, 754. 2 Ibid. « Ibid. 

249 



250 WORDSWORTH 

The Second Part, '' The Excursion," was completed. The Third 
Part was only planned ; but, as Professor Knight says, '' the ma- 
terials of which it would have been formed have, however, been 
incorporated, for the most part, in the Author's other Publications, 
written subsequently to ' The Excursion.' " ^ 

In the Preface to the edition of 18 14 of '' The Excursion " the 
author states the subject, or rather subjects, of the poem. He tells 
us that he does not intend '*to formally announce a system," 
but he intimates that a system is latent in the poem, and leaves 
the reader to construct it for himself. It is really questionable 
whether Wordsworth, notwithstanding his undoubted mental power, 
could really have formulated a system. His was not a real philo- 
sophic mind. He was preeminently a poet, and, so far as we may 
call him a philosophic poet, preeminently an intuitionist. Up to 
this point we have seen that virtually all of his poetry, so far as it 
deals with basal conceptions, is intuitional in character. He seldom 
reasons ; he sees? He is a seer rather than a philosopher. Here, 
however, in '"The Excursion," he reasons, but the reasoning is 
often disjointed, and frequently issues into mere musing. There is 
not a carefully, consecutively, and logically reasoned-out world-view, 
nor a real philosophy of life. The reasoning is often interrupted 
by narrative and description, and, indeed, not only interrupted, 
but sometimes almost lost. 

In the Preface, after calling attention to the fact that it is not 
his purpose to announce a system, he proceeds to give us a '' kind 
of Prospectus of the design and scope of the whole Poem," in the 
form of a quotation from the conclusion of the first book of " The 
Recluse," as follows : 

On Man, on Nature, and on Human Life, 
Musing in solitude, I oft perceive 
Fair trains of imagery before me rise, 
Accompanied by feelings of delight 

1 Poetical Works, edited by William Knight, III, 122 n. 

2 This is especially true in his poetry of Nature, although he does reason 
about Nature in his prose writings. 



THE EXCURSION 251 

Pure, or with no unpleasing sadness mixed ; 
And I am conscious of affecting thoughts 
And dear remembrances, whose presence soothes 
Or elevates the Mind, intent to weigh 
The good and evil of our mortal state. 
— To these emotions, whencesoe'er they come, 
Whether from breath of outward circumstance. 
Or from the Soul — an impulse to herself — 
I would give utterance in numerous verse. 
Of Truth, of Grandeur, Beauty, Love, and Hope, 
And meFancholy Fear subdued by Faith ; 
Of blessed consolations in distress ; 
Of moral strength, and intellectual Power ; 
Of joy in widest commonalty spread ; 
Of the individual Mind that keeps her own 
Inviolate retirement, subject there 
'^ ' To Conscience only, and the law supreme 
Of that Intelligence which governs all — 
I sing : — "fit audience let me find though few ! " ^ 

This Prospectus itself in a measure illustrates what has been 
said above. It does not present a number of concepts to be con- 
sidered, on subjects in an orderly relation, such as would lead us 
to expect the development of a system of thought, or of rational 
belief. Indeed, the Prospectus itself properly characterizes the 
nature of the mental process revealed in this poem. It is '' musing 
in solitude " on Man, Nature, and Human Life, rather than syste- 
matically reasoning concerning them. He is to weigh the good 
and evil of life. He is to sing of truth, grandeur, beauty, love, 
hope, melancholy fear subdued by faith, blessed consolations, moral 
strength, intellectual power, widespread joy ; of the individual mind 
living in solitude, subject only to the laws of conscience and the law 
of God. And when, a little farther on, he reveals the ethical aim 

of his poem to be to 

arouse the sensual from their sleep 
Of Death, and win the vacant and the vain 
To noble raptures,^ 

1 The Recluse. The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, edited by Thomas 
Hutchinson, Prospectus, 1-23. * Prospectus to The Excursion, 60-62. 



252 WORDSWORTH 

he enlarges the scope of his work, for he immediately continues, 

while my voice proclaims 
How exquisitely the individual Mind 
(And the progressive powers perhaps no less 
Of the whole species) to the external World 
• Is fitted : — and how exquisitely, too — 
Theme this but little heard of among men — 
The external World is fitted to the Mind ; 
And the creation (by no lower name 
Can it be called) which they with blended might 
Accomplish : — this is our high argument.^ 

These are splendid themes, and many of them are fundamental 
in character, but the order of their conception and presentation 
can hardly be regarded as a logical one, and is not thus carried out 
in the poem. It indicates what is really the fact about '' The Ex- 
cursion " — that the Poet muses rather than philosophizes. We 
have a series of musings or meditations on basal problems of the 
world and life, rather than a real philosophical poem. 

After thus indicating the design and scope of the work, and de- 
claring his moral aim or purpose in writing it, our Poet invokes 
the prophetic Spirit to descend upon, and inspire, illumine, and 
guide him, so that his song 

With star-like virtue in its place may shine, 
Shedding benignant influence, and secure, 
Itself, from all malevolent effect 
Of those mutations that extend their sway 
Throughout the nether sphere ! ^ 

And, as if desirous of enlarging still more the scope of the poem, 
and in further need of the Spirit's aid, he adds : 

And if with this 
I mix more lowly matter ; with the thing 
Contemplated, describe the Mind and Man 
Contemplating ; and who, and what he was — 
The transitory Being that beheld 
This Vision ; when and where, and how he lived ; — 

1 Prospectus to The Excursion, 62-71. * ibid., 89-93. 



THE EXCURSION 253 

Be not this labour useless. If such theme 

May sort with highest objects, then — dread Power ! 

Whose gracious favour is the primal source 

Of all illumination, — may my Life 

Express the image of a better time, 

More wise desires, and simpler manners ; — nurse 

My Heart in genuine freedom : — all pure thoughts 

Be with me ; — so shall thy unfailing love 

Guide, and support, and cheer me to the end I ^ 

These are not merely formal words, placed here at the beginning 
of a long work, which the Poet meant to be part of his magnum 
opus, as a kind of professional introduction. They are in harmony 
with his well-known ethical views of poetry, and his conviction 
that the real poet speaks by inspiration — by illumination — his 
message being an oracular utterance. For, with him, the prophetic 
Spirit is specially near to the bard, possessing, indeed, " a metro- 
politan temple in the hearts of mighty Poets." ^ 

In a careful study of '* The Excursion " we must, of course, 
take into consideration the effect of physical environment on the 
author's mind. In the case of less elaborate poems, written during 
the years covered by its composition, we have seen that Words- 
worth's mind was powerfully influenced by his natural surround- 
ings. It is none the less true in regard to *' The Excursion." All 
through the poem it is evident that he is affected by local scenery, 
and the effects of his intimacy with Nature are manifest in every 
book. It was the natural beauty and grandeur of Racedown, Al- 
foxden, Grasmere, and Allan Bank that appealed to him, and fur- 
nished materials for description, as well as inspiration and insight. 
Although Hazlitt, in a measure, overstates the facts, still, in the 
main, what he says on this point is true : '' The poem of ' The 
Excursion ' resembles that part of the country in which the scene 
is laid. It has the same vastness and magnificence, with the same 
nakedness and confusion. It has the same overwhelming, oppres- 
sive power. It excites or recalls the same sensations which those 

1 Prospectus to The Excursion, 93-107. * Ibid., 83-87. 



254 WORDSWORTH 

who have traversed that wonderful scenery must have felt. We 
are surrounded with the constant sense and superstitious awe of 
the collective power of matter, of the gigantic and eternal forms of 
nature, on which, from the beginning of time, the hand of man 
has made no impression. Here are no dotted lines, no hedge-row 
beauties, no box-tree borders, no gravel walks, no square mechanic 
inclosures ; all is left loose and irregular in the rude chaos of ab- 
original nature. The boundaries of hill and valley are the poet's 
only geography, where we wander with him incessantly over deep 
beds of moss and waving fern, amidst the troops of red deer and 
wild animals. Such is the severe simplicity of Mr. Wordsworth's 
taste, that I doubt whether he would not reject a druidical temple, 
or time-hallowed ruin, as too modern and artificial for his purpose. 
He only familiarizes himself to his readers with a stone, covered 
with lichens, which has slept in the same spot of ground from the 
creation of the world, or with the rocky fissure between two moun- 
tains caused by thunder, or with a cavern scooped out by the sea. 
His mind is, as it were, coeval with the primary forms of things ; 
his imagination holds immediately from nature, and *owes no 
allegiance ' but * to the elements.' " ^ 

What is true in regard to physical surroundings is true also with 
respect to social environment. The human nature and human life 
with which Wordsworth came in contact in these different places 
of abode constitute '' Man " on whom he muses. Lowly, uncon- 
ventionalized '' Man " really furnishes the subject for his meditative 
song. Here, as elsewhere, he does not deal with human nature in 
its accidents, inequalities, individualities, and extremes. It is the 
universal elements of our nature that arrest his attention, and on 
which his mind is focused. Hence the lack of the really dramatic 
in this poem, as in his poetry in general, although he said " some- 
thing of a dramatic form " had been adopted. 

So far as the characters of '' The Excursion " are concerned, in 
their views on fundamental questions, the Author, Wanderer, and 
1 Hazlitt, The English Poets, 343-344. 



THE EXCURSION 255 

Pastor largely represent Wordsworth himself. However much they 
may differ on minor matters, on fundamentals their views are essen- 
tially the same. Even in the case of the Solitary, who, on the 
whole, represents the pessimistic view of life, Wordsworth is draw- 
ing largely on his own experience with the French Revolution, 
although, of course, the views of the Solitary are not, at the time 
of writing, those of the Poet. 

Book First of ''The Excursion " is entitled ''The Wanderer." Its 
composition belongs to Racedown and Alfoxden, during the years 
1 795-1 798. It tells of a meeting by appointment of the Author 
and Wanderer on a summer day near a ruined cottage. The Wan- 
derer is a born poet — a poet "sown by Nature," possessing the 
gift of vision, yet without " the accomplishment of verse." He has 
had an interesting history, which the author relates, and in doing 
so Wordsworth is undoubtedly tracing his own personal experience. 
This history confirms, in a large measure, what has been said of 
the Poet's personal psychology, and adds further light on this 
interesting subject. 

As a lad the Wanderer was a visionary, endowed with the mystic's 
consciousness, which affected his normal perception. So keen was 
his organic and emotional susceptibility that. 

While yet a child, and long before his time, 
Had he perceived the presence and the power 
Of greatness ; and deep feelings had impressed 
So vividly great objects that they lay 
Upon his mind like substances, whose presence 
Perplexed the bodily sense.^ 

These impressions were so deep and lasting that, as he advanced 
in years, they constituted a kind of norm with which he compared 
his memories, thoughts, images, etc. Anything less vivid failed 
to satisfy him, so that he acquired the power of impressing these 
forms on his brain, and brooding on them to such an extent that 
they attained the vividness of dreams. He was fond of Nature. 

1 The Excursion, I, 133-139. 



256 WORDSWORTH 

Even in childhood, both eye and ear were eager to feast upon the 
food which each season provided for sense, and, in later boyhood, 
Nature appealed to him in such a way as not only to arouse the 
senses, but to awaken imagination ; for, 

many an hour in caves forlorn, 
And 'mid the hollow depths of naked crags 
He sate, and even in their fixed lineaments, 
Or from the power of a peculiar eye, 
Or by creative feeling overborne, 
Or by predominance of thought oppressed, 
Even in their fixed and steady lineaments 
He traced an ebbing and a flowing mind, 
Expression ever varying ! ^ 

His imagination was chiefly nourished by tales of the mountains, 
and legends of the woods, which impelled the mind to apprehend 
the moral qualities and scope of things. Stories of martyrs, of 
giants, and fiends, also, stirred his imagination and feelings. This 
early fear was a prominent emotion, and seemed to furnish a kind 
of aesthetic pleasure — at least with him it was '' a cherished 
visitant." Nature in her various aspects and forms had not as yet 
awakened in him the delight of love. Still he had felt her power, 
and the very intensity of his conceptions prepared him for her 
lesson of love. In all this we really see the Wordsworth of the 
first book of '' The Prelude." 

The youth, also, of the Wanderer was like the youth of the Poet, 
as described in his autobiographical work. Mysticism is very ap- 
parent, indeed, and reaches its height. As he beholds the great 
objects of Nature, he finds them full of gladness, and reads in the 
clouds *' unutterable love." He is so overpowered by Nature as 
soon to be lost in a trance in which '' sensation, soul and form" 
all melt into him. There is no sense of bodily life. Even thought 
expires in enjoyment. It is a visitation from God, and the soul is 
rapt in communion which transcends specific prayer and praise. 
The mind itself seems to be a thanksgiving, blessedness, and love. 

1 The Excursion, I, 154-162. 



THE EXCURSION 257 

The self is almost lost in a supernormal experience. Not only the 
ordinary physical, but, indeed, almost the psychological, distinc- 
tions are canceled. His whole being is resolved into feeling- 
consciousness — a high, holy, transcendent emotional state. In 
short, the soul is submerged in the deeps of a trance-experience 
in which the intellectual limits of self practically vanish, and the 
feeling-self enters into a profound communion with the living God, 
rapt in an ecstasy of ineffable blessedness and love.^ 

And this mystical soul of the youth was intimately associated 
with Nature, being profoundly affected by her presence, for the 
experience just described was the result of beholding a sunrise 
from the top of a bold headland. Again, we are told that, as a, 
herdsman in the mountains, he was so overcome by Nature as to 
be like one possessed. Here, in solitude, in the presence of the 
mighty forms of Nature, he was made to feel the truth of Revela- 
tion with reference to the '*life which cannot die." Everything 
'' breathed immortality." Things bordered on infinity. All little- 
ness disappeared. The soul mounted high, and spiritual vision 
dawned. There was no need of faith here, for he saw, and the 
ecstatic vision sanctified his nature. Low desires and thoughts 
vanished, and from the remembrance of these extreme moments 
he learned wisdom, patience, humility, and love.^ 

The descriptions of these accesses of mind peculiar to the Wan- 
derer are, of course, accounts of Wordsworth's own personal experi- 
ences. They tally with those to be found in ** The Prelude," which 
record the history of his Hawkshead days, and his early life at 
Cambridge. It is evident from all this how profound a mystic 
Wordsworth was, and how much his poetic mind was indebted to 
this unique form of consciousness for its fine spiritual interpretation 
of the world. 

As the history of the Wanderer continues, we read again the 
history of Wordsworth as we have learned it in '' The Prelude." 
Poetry figures in his early education, Milton being especially 
1 The Excursion, I, 197-218. 2 ibid., I, 219-242. 



258 WORDSWORTH 

mentioned. Then follows an account of his great love for Nature, 
which surpassed all^ other loves. He felt a wasting power in all 
things that weaned him from her influence. So fond of her was 
he that, when studying mathematics, the stars were his triangles, 
and he delighted to measure the altitude of '' some tall crag that 
is the eagle's birth place," or some other impressive object of 
Nature. He made his abstract science concrete through his love 
of the natural world. Nature became more and more a factor in 
his life. Indeed, she almost overpowered him, so completely in- 
toxicated by her joys was he, and so passionate was his love. 

And thus before his eighteenth year was told, 
Accumulated feelings pressed his heart 
With still increasing weight ; he was o'erpowered 
By Nature ; by the turbulence subdued 
Of his own mind ; by mystery and hope, 
And the first virgin passion of a soul 
Communing with the glorious universe. 
Full often wished he that the winds might rage 
When they were silent : far more fondly now 
Than in his earlier season did he love 
Tempestuous nights — the conflict and the sounds 
That live in darkness. From his intellect 
And from the stillness of abstracted thought 
He asked repose ; and, failing oft to win 
The peace required, he scanned the laws of light 
Amid the roar of torrents, where they send 
From hollow clefts up to the clearer air 
A cloud of mist, that smitten by the sun 
Varies its rainbow hues. But vainly thus, 
And vainly by all other means, he strove 
To mitigate the fever of his heart.^ 

We have met with all of this before in Wordsworth's account of 
his last days at Hawkshead, and his early life at Cambridge, to be 
found in '' The Prelude." It is merely a reiteration of the story 
of Nature's strong hold on his affections in youth. We have here, 
also, the same Wordsworth whose ardent love for the sterner and 

1 The Excursion, I, 280-300. 



THE EXCURSION 259 

more austere aspects of Nature had to be softened later by the 
gentle Dorothy. At this period Nature, with him, is a passion 
which he actively seeks to gratify. 

But the history of the Wanderer continues. After he had reached 
later youth, he taught school for a maintenance, but found himself 
unfitted for the task, and soon adopted the vocation of a peddler. 
Thus moving from place to place, he saw much of men. Especially 
did he come in contact with rural folk, and saw 

Their manners, their enjoyments, and pursuits, 

Their passions and their feelings ; chiefly those 

Essential and eternal in the heart, 

That, 'mid the simpler forms of rural life, 

Exist more simple in their elements. 

And speak a plainer language.^ 

Here, again, may be seen the Wordsworth of *' The Prelude " and 
of the " Lyrical Ballads." ^ Of course, the detailed history of the 
Wanderer is not the history of Wordsworth. Our Poet never taught 
school, nor did he lead the life of a peddler, but he was strongly 
inclined to the latter vocation because of the charm afforded by 
moving through the country from place to place, and meeting 
simple folk. We see, in the words quoted above, what has been 
noticed so often in '' The Prelude," as well as in the Preface to 
the " Lyrical Ballads," and in the ballads themselves, how Words- 
worth felt that in these rustic folk are to be found the essential 
and eternal passions and feelings of the human heart existing 
more simply, and speaking a plainer language, than in more 
highly developed Man. 

But the peddler's life also brought him in contact with Nature, 
and her influence was potently felt. 

In the woods, 
A lone Enthusiast, and among the fields, 
Itinerant in this labour, he had passed 
The better portion of his time ; and there 

1 The Excursion, I, 342-347. 2 cf_ Preface to the Lyrical Ballads. 



26o WORDSWORTH 

Spontaneously had his affections thriven 
Amid the bounties of the year, the peace 
And liberty of nature ; there he kept 
In solitude and solitary thought 
His mind in a just equipoise of love.^ 

Here, once more, is Wordsworth's familiar conception of Nature's 
ministry to the human soul. So familiar are we with such words 
by this time that it is impossible to doubt his position. The mind 
unfolds under the tutelage of Nature, and reflects in itself many 
of her own peculiar traits. 

The Wanderer pursued his vocation until he had acquired suffi- 
cient means to retire and live at ease. He was a man healthy, 
hopeful, undepressed by the world and its care, '' observant, studi- 
ous, thoughtful," and religious (although his religion was more a 
matter of nature and reason than of inheritance and institution), 
kind-hearted, considerate, his entire form breathing intelligence, 
with a history that has just been narrated. This was the person 
whom the Author met lying on a bench near a deserted hut, and 
who constitutes the chief figure of *' The Excursion." Soon after 
their meeting, the Wanderer told the history of the ruined cottage, 
located near the place where he was lying. It is a story of afflic- 
tion, one of the most pathetic of all the sorrowful tales embodied 
in Wordsworth's verse — a story of misfortune overtaking a happy 
couple, causing desertion on the part of the husband, almost inde- 
scribable suffering on the part of the wife, and, finally, the death 
of both. It is a tale that shows Wordsworth to be an unusual poet 
of pathos and passion. 

In the cottage near by, says the Wanderer, dwelt Margaret with 
her husband and child. She was a woman *'of a steady mind, 
tender and deep in her excesses of love." Her companion was an 
affectionate, sober, and industrious man. In this modest home 
they had spent many peaceful days, but, alas, two blighting seasons 
came, and the fields yielded a meager harvest. To this was added 

1 The Excursion, I, 347-3 SS* 



THE EXCURSION 26 1 

the calamity of war. The land was sorely smitten. Business was 
depressed. Men were idle, and poverty was manifest on every 
hand. These sorry conditions entailed much self-denial on the 
part of this humble family. At length the husband was stricken 
with a dangerous and lingering fever. On recovering he found that 
his small earnings had been virtually exhausted. Another child was 
born. The good man was anxious because of their poverty, but 
tried to conceal his fears in various ways, often assuming a mock 
cheerfulness. But the strain soon became too great, and, made 
desperate by his misfortune, he resolved to quit his home secretly, 
not having sufficient courage to bid his wife farewell. Before leaving 
he wrapped a little money in a paper, and placed it in her chamber. 
Margaret found it, and, amid her fears and misgivings, soon learned, 
from a messenger sent by her husband, that he had joined a troop 
leaving for a distant land. Nine weary years she waited for his 
return. With a sorrowful spirit she lingered, now in hope, now in 
despair, waiting and watching, her heart wasting away with daily 
disappointment and grief. In the meantime 

her poor Hut 
Sank to decay ; for he was gone, whose hand, 
At the first nipping of October frost, 
Closed up each chink, and with fresh bands of straw 
Chequered the green-grown thatch. And so she lived 
Through the long winter, reckless and alone ; 
Until her house by frost, and thaw, and rain, 
Was sapped ; and while she slept, the nightly damps 
Did chill her breast ; and in the stormy day 
Her tattered clothes were ruffled by the wind, 
Even at the side of her own fire. Yet still 
She loved this wretched spot, nor would for worlds 
Have parted hence ; and still that length of road. 
And this rude bench, one torturing hope endeared. 
Fast rooted at her heart : and here, my Friend, — 
In sickness she remained ; and here she died ; 
Last human tenant of these ruined walls ! ^ 

^ The Excursion, I, 900-916. 



262 WORDSWORTH 

" The Ruined Cottage " illustrates the fact that Wordsworth, as a 
Nature-poet, is not only a poet of insight, but a descriptive poet as 
well ; and, as such, he not only deals with Nature in the large, but 
scans her with a minute and accurate observation. His description of 
the garden near the deserted hut,^ and the Wanderer's description 
of his return to Margaret's place, and the condition in which he 
found it,2 make this evident. Indeed, '' The Excursion " furnishes 
abundant proof of Wordsworth's descriptive power, and his care- 
ful observation of Nature's forms. This fact indicates that his was 
" the practised eye " as well as '' the watchful heart." It is some- 
what remarkable that this detailed description should be so fre- 
quently met with in Wordsworth, for he was deeply interested 
either in the larger and more majestic aspects of Nature, or in her 
inner life and meaning, and her intimate relations to Man as teacher, 
comforter, and guide. This, however, did not render him insensible 
to her particularity — to the more modest and detailed forms of 
her manifestation. This was doubtless due to a native and trained 
organic sensitiveness, and to the influence of his sister Dorothy 
in leading him to a more minute observation of things, as well as 
to a more tender regard for the less austere aspects of the physical 
world. 

But in the story of the ruined cottage we again see the poet of 
Man. It is with the human heart that Wordsworth is primarily 
concerned here, and it is the fundamental passions that engage 
his attention. Here he deals with the domestic affections. He sings 
'* a lofty song of lowly weal and dole." The weal is a fleeting note, 
but the dole constitutes the protracted, melancholy theme of the 
song. Here is pathos, tenderness, and profound passion — a pic- 
ture of silent, though desperate, sorrow on the part of a man, and 
of heart-wasting fidelity and love on the part of a woman; and 
their only reward is death and the grave. One rises from reading 
this poem feeling that he has been listening to a careful and sym- 
pathetic student of the human heart, who is acquainted with its 
^ The Excursion, I, 451-462. 2 ibid., 706-730. 



THE EXCURSION 263 

profounder moods and passions, who has looked long and steadily 
into its depths, who has noted the great undercurrents of its life, 
and can tell with delicacy and power what he has seen. There is 
no mawkish sentimentality, but a dignified, yet deeply passionate 
portrayal of the tragic experience of the soul. In this Wordsworth 
excels, and the wonder of it all is that so many have found, in this 
sympathetic and penetrative student of the elemental affections, a 
poet devoid of passion. He does not, indeed, storm the soul with 
violent outbursts of feeling, but he lays bare the heart in all the 
intensity of its emotional life, in the deeper pulsations of its basal 
feelings, and in all the tragic bitterness of its spiritual agony. 
With this chapter in Life's book Wordsworth was thoroughly 
familiar, and he makes us feel with him as he tells us of its dark 
and mysterious contents. 



CHAPTER XVI 
THE EXCURSION (CONTINUED) 

In the second book of '*The Excursion" we are introduced to 
another personage — the Solitary — in whose experience with the 
French Revolution can be traced much of Wordsworth's own history 
as we have already become familiar with it. The joyful expectancy, 
the ardent love of and hopes for Man, the awful disappointment, and 
the depressing and almost ruinous effect upon his spirit to be found 
in the Solitary's career are, in a large measure, but a reproduction 
of the Poet's own experience. Indeed, in many respects ''The 
Excursion " is as really, although not as minutely and literally, a 
mental autobiography of Wordsworth as is '' The Prelude " ; there- 
fore it deserves careful interpretation in a study of the history of 
the Poet's inner life. 

After relating the sorrowful tale of the ruined cottage, the 
Wanderer and Author journey together to the home of the Solitary. 
After their arrival the conversation soon leads up to a considera- 
tion of fundamental problems in relation to which the Solitary takes 
a skeptical attitude. He expresses himself as, on the whole, indif- 
ferent to Man's origin and destiny. As to the latter, he prefers 
annihilation to continuance of life. Pessimism is his creed. Night 
is preferable to day, sleep to waking, and death to sleep. Sweet 
is the quiet stillness of the grave after life's fitful storms. It was 
not always thus with him. Once he loved to think of Man and his 
future, and viewed the world with hope and joy. But experience 
has changed his view, and now life has little worth for him. In 
'' bitter language of the heart " he gives his estimate : 

And yet, what worth ? what good is given to men, 
More solid than the gilded clouds of heaven ? 
What joy more lasting than a vernal flower ? — 
264 



THE EXCURSION 265 

None ! 't is the general plaint of human kind 

In solitude : and mutually addressed 

From each to all, for wisdom's sake : — This truth 

The priest announces from his holy seat : 

And, crowned with garlands in the summer grove, 

The poet fits it to his pensive lyre. 

Yet, ere that final resting-place be gained. 

Sharp contradictions may arise, by doom 

Of this same life, compelling us to grieve 

That the prosperities of love and joy 

Should be permitted, ofttimes, to endure 

So long, and be at once cast down for ever. 

Oh ! tremble, ye, to whom hath been assigned 

A course of days composing happy months, 

And they as happy years ; the present still 

So like the past, and both so firm a pledge 

Of a congenial future, that the wheels 

Of pleasure move without the aid of hope : 

For Mutability is Nature's bane ; 

And slighted Hope will be avenged ; and, when 

Ye need her favours, ye shall find her not ; 

But in her stead — fear — doubt — and agony ! ^ 

The Solitary then unfolds to them his history, which was really 
responsible for his pessimism. He tells them of his once happy 
domestic life, then of his terrible affliction in the death of his wife 
and children, the sorrowful depression that ensued, his reawakened 
interest in life through the French Revolution, his grievous dis- 
appointment and disgust at the outcome, his visit to the Western 
world, where he thought Man existed as primeval Nature's child, 
his failure to find ''that pure archetype of human greatness," but, 
instead, a wretched creature, and, finally, of his return to his native 
land. And now in this retreat they find him, cherishing a hope 
that his particular current of life will soon '' reach the unfathomable 
gulf, where all is still." 

It can hardly be doubted that Wordsworth, in the Solitary's 
speech, is giving vent (possibly in an exaggerated form) to feelings 

1 The Excursion, III, 437-461. 



266 WORDSWORTH 

which were very like his own during the later days of the French 
Revolution, and the period immediately following. For he was 
then in the depths of spiritual darkness and despair, from which, 
temporarily at least, there seemed to be no way of escape. He had 
lost his faith in men, in the veracity of moral reason, and, by impli- 
cation at least, in the immortal destiny of a being whose moral 
nature seemed to be a contradiction. To such an one life held out 
little hope, and his estimate of its worth must have reached a min- 
imum. It seems as though Wordsworth introduced the Solitary's 
gloomy philosophy here for very much the same reason as that 
which impelled him to introduce the philosophy of Godwin into 
" The Borderers " — to purge himself of it, and also to secure an 
opportunity to present the saner views of human life and destiny 
which, by this time, he had formed. 

In the fourth book of '' The Excursion" is presented the Wan- 
derer's reply to the Solitary. In it may be found Wordsworth's 
views concerning a philosophy of life. He affirms that there is but 
*' one adequate support for the calamities of mortal life," and that is 
an assured belief that man's life is ordered of God, who is infinitely 
benevolent and powerful, and whose eternal purposes convert all 
accidents to good; resignation to his will, and love for him, as 
well as dread of all things unworthy that might dishonor him. This 
is the only faith for men whose hearts have been torn, as was the 
Solitary's, by the loss of all that we hold most dear. God alone is 
Man's refuge and strength in such hours of trouble. He alone can 
sustain the sick heart, and restore the languid spirit.^ 

But there are other articles to his creed. As mortals we are 
frail, and therefore we sorrow. If we could only grasp firmly the 
reality of the immortal life, and its blessedness, which reason sanc- 
tions, and revelation insures, then sorrow for the dead were both 
selfish and senseless. Immortality is a fact. The dead are not 
dead. They live, and are glorified; or, if they sleep, they shall 
wake again, and dwell with God in everlasting love. Hope less 

1 The Excursion, IV, 10-31. 



THE EXCURSION 267 

than this is inconsistent with belief in infinite mercy and perfect 
wisdom. In short, beHef in an all-wise and beneficent God (who 
ordains all things for the best, whose loving providence extends 
to every soul, overruling things and events for its good), and 
belief in the life everlasting, to which death is the gate — these, 
and the reality of duty, are the fundamentals of the Wanderer's 
creed. For it he is not apprehensive. He fears not the worst 
that reason can urge in opposition. Man's difficulty lies in lack 
of zeal for the life of faith, and in his failure to live up to it. 
This is why he is drawn away by the temptations and vanities of 
the world, and the evil passions and tendencies of the human 
mind. What, then, is to be done ? He must look to those sources 
whence come his moral and spiritual strength. And what are 
they.? What but 

vows, renewed 
On the first motion of a holy thought ; 
Vigils of contemplation ; praise ; and prayer — 
A stream, which, from the fountain of the heart 
Issuing, however feebly, nowhere flows 
Without access of unexpected strength. 
But, above all, the victory is most sure 
For him, who, seeking faith by virtue, strives 
To yield entire submission to the law 
Of conscience — conscience reverenced and obeyed. 
As God's most intimate presence in the soul. 
And his most perfect image in the world. 
— Endeavour thus to live ; these rules regard ; 
These helps solicit ; and a steadfast seat 
Shall then be yours among the happy few 
Who dwell on earth, yet breathe empyreal air, 
Sons of the morning. For your nobler part. 
Ere disencumbered of her mortal chains, 
Doubt shall be quelled and trouble chased away ; 
With only such degree of sadness left 
As may support longings of pure desire ; 
And strengthen love, rejoicing secretly 
In the sublime attractions of the grave.^ 

1 The Excursion, IV, 216-238. 



268 WORDSWORTH 

But there is another " support " for Man in sorrow, or another 
source of peace. This is knowledge, especially of Nature in all 
her forms. Such knowledge is delight, and delight leads to love 
and adoration. Rural life and solitude furnish an opportunity for 
its increase. The Wanderer urges the Solitary to bodily activity 
and intercourse with Nature. She is full of resources, and brings 
refreshment and health to the sick soul.^ To flee from Man and 
to fail to rejoice in Nature is, indeed, a pitiable lot. She speaks 
of God and eternity. She can regenerate the human soul. She 
can awaken love which casts out all morbidity, disquietude, ven- 
geance, and hate. And this love, when once called forth, extends 
to our fellow-men. It softens feelings of aversion, and fills the 
entire frame with a holy tenderness. It clarifies the mind, and 
impels it to seek, and helps it to find, the good. The time will come 
when Man, by contemplating Nature's forms in their relation to 
Man, shall see a spiritual meaning in them, and they will impart 
important lessons of human suffering, joy, and duty. Then, too, 
general laws, as well as local accidents, shall tend to rouse and 
urge him, *' and, with the will, confer the ability to spread the 
blessings wide of true philanthropy," and sense shall be dominated 
by moral purpose. Then shall Man's spirit no longer deplore the 
burden of life. Then, too, shall Science be '' a precious visitant," 
and be worthy of her name. Her heart shall kindle, and her dull 
eye, no longer chained in slavery to her object, shall watch patiently 
''the processes of things, and serve the cause of order and dis- 
tinctness," conscious of her noblest office to guide and support 
" the mind's excursive power." In short, the Wanderer's cure for 
pessimism, and the cynicism and misanthropy which it so often 
involves, is faith in God and his kind providence, faith in immor- 
tality, obedience to conscience, and love for, and communion with, 
Nature. 

The day after the Wanderer's reply to the Solitary's dark views 
of life, they, with the Author, leave the valley, and journey to a 

1 The Excursion, IV, 466-504. 



THE EXCURSION 269 

churchyard in the vale beyond. Here the Solitary returns to the 
conversation of the preceding day, and, still in a mood of dejec- 
tion, continues his melancholy commentary on human life. Now 
Man himself, in all his weakness and moral impotency, comes in 
for his scorn and condemnation. He recalls the Wanderer's refer- 
ence to Man's '' sublime dependencies, and hopes of future states 
of being," but, as he stands there in the midst of the dead, he 
asks his companions to contrast the prospects of the soul with the 
sober facts of human life. Suppose every grave in their presence 
were as a book disclosing the history of the lives of their mute 
inhabitants, what a revelation would there be ! — what an uncover- 
ing of human weakness and perversity ! How contrary to the 
judgments of right reason, and the imperatives of conscience, 
would seem the deeds of those who lie there ! So shocking would 
the disclosure be, that they would recoil from it with sorrow and 
shame. Nearly the whole course of life presents a melancholy 
moral picture. What can philosophy and religion show as their 
triumphs in the field of human morals ? Man seems prone to 
evil. Each day records moral failure or perverseness in every life. 

If the heart 
Could be inspected to its inmost folds 
By sight undazzled with the glare of praise, 
Who shall be named — in the resplendent line 
Of sages, martyrs, confessors — the man 
Whom the best might of faith, wherever fixed, 
For one day's little compass, has preserved 
From painful and discreditable shocks 
Of contradiction, from some vague desire 
Culpably cherished, or corrupt relapse 
To some unsanctioned fear ? ^ 

The Solitary seems anxious to settle accounts with both Man 
and Life. In his judgment there is very little of good in either. 
Morbidly, but eloquently, he proceeds : 

1 The Excursion, V, 355-364. 



270 WORDSWORTH 

In the life of man, 
If to the poetry of common speech 
Faith may be given, we see as in a glass 
A true reflection of the circling year, 
With all its seasons. Grant that Spring is there. 
In spite of many a rough untoward blast, 
Hopeful and promising with buds and flowers ; 
Yet where is glowing Summer's long rich day, 
That ought to follow faithfully expressed ? 
And mellow Autumn, charged with bounteous fruit. 
Where is she imaged ? in what favoured clime 
Her lavish pomp, and ripe magnificence ? 
— Yet, while the better part is missed, the worse 
In man's autumnal season is set forth 
With a resemblance not to be denied. 
And that contents him ; bowers that hear no more 
The voice of gladness, less and less supply 
Of outward sunshine and internal warmth ; 
And, with this change, sharp air and falling leaves, 
Foretelling aged Winter's desolate sway.^ 

One might suppose that in this quiet mountain vale, remote from 

the populous centers, with their numerous and foul temptations, 

Man would present a more wholesome picture. But this is not 

the case : ^, 

They escape, 

Perchance, the heavier woes of guilt ; feel not 

The tedium of fantastic idleness : 

Yet Hf e, as with the multitude, with them 

Is fashioned like an ill-constructed tale ; 

That on the outset wastes its gay desires, 

Its fair adventures, its enlivening hopes, 

And pleasant interests — for the sequel leaving 

Old things repeated with diminished grace ; 

And all the laboured novelties at best 

Imperfect substitutes, whose use and power 

Evince the want and weakness whence they spring.* 

Wordsworth seems to introduce the views of the Solitary some- 
what at length in order to bring out his own creed of life in 

1 The Excursion, V, 391-410. 2 ibid., V, 428-439. 



THE EXCURSION 271 

opposition to them. With the feelings and convictions of this pessi- 
mist he was quite famihar, for they represent, in a fair measure, his 
own state of mind during the last days of, and immediately follow- 
ing, the French Revolution. However, he has now recovered his 
grip on life, and measures its worth, and the worth of Man him- 
self, from a different angle. And in the views of the Wanderer 
and Author, as well as in those of the Pastor — who is soon to 
appear on the scenes — he opposes to the pessimist's creed a 
different " philosophy," which is evidently an embodiment of his 
own rational convictions. He means to be fair, and therefore 
allows the Solitary to paint Life and Man in unusually dark colors. 
However, after the advocate of this gospel of doubt and despair 
has said his worst, the Poet seems to think that there is a saner, 
more wholesome, more helpful, view of Life and Man — one more 
true to the facts of human experience, and to their legitimate 
interpretation. 

As the Solitary closes his mournful commentary on human 
character and life, another person approaches the littie group — 
the Pastor of the village church. The Wanderer advises him of 
their serious discussion, which involved such momentous questions 
as these : Does Man, as generations pass, really make progress ? 
Does the individual reach a life-line, ''ere his hairs be gray," at 
which his progress ceases ? Does good predominate over evil in 
Man ? Does the human will acknowledge the law of reason ? Is 
virtue a living power, or merely a name, destined soon to pass 
away, leaving only pain and misery, and wretched life — the goal of 
which is dust ? And he appeals to the Pastor to give them the light 
of his experience in regard to these grave questions, so that their 
hearts may be cheered. To this appeal the Pastor responds, and 
again we are introduced to Wordsworth's own philosophy of life : 

Man as a rational being is subject to limitations. He suffers 
from a constitutional impotency of mind so far as the solution of 
fundamental speculative problems is concerned. Furthermore, his 
intellectual vision is clouded by his passions. They blind him, 



2 72 WORDSWORTH 

in a measure, in his efforts to attain the truth. However, so far 
as the general purposes of faith in a divine Providence, as the 
source of comfort and support in the hour of human need, are 
concerned, he who Hves in accord with the laws of right reason is 
the man who gains the clearest perception of those truths which 
the unaided reason is unable fully to grasp. As in the Christian 
life, he that doeth His will shall know of the doctrine, so here, the 
man who obeys the law of his moral being will have the clearest 
apprehension of those things which lie beyond the unassisted 
powers of his rational nature. Wordsworth, in the Pastor's intro- 
ductory words, is calling attention once more to the ethical momenta 
in human knowledge, and, in so doing, is undoubtedly on solid 
ground so far as epistemology is concerned, for the moral life is 
unquestionably a factor in cognition. 

But, descending from these lofty heights to more common levels, 
the Pastor affirms that life is fair and tempting, grateful and refresh- 
ing, or forbidding and cheerless, according as we view or approach 
it. To this the Wanderer assents, and remarks once more on the 
limitations of human reason. Moral truth is not a hard-and-fast 
thing, to be determined mechanically by the logical processes of the 
intellect; there is an element of relativity in it. It is subject to 
circumstances. It has a certain fixedness or stability at its base, 
but on the surface admits of manifold applications and interpre- 
tations as circumstances vary. 

But now the Pastor, in response to the Wanderer's appeal, testi- 
fies from his own experience with actual men and women living 
about them, and with those who lie moldering at their feet, con- 
cerning the worth of life, and the worth or frailty of human nature 
In this way, getting away from abstractions to facts, from disputes 
X,o plain pictures y from reasoning to life (and to life at close quarters), 

they , 

^ may learn 

To prize the breath we share with human kind; 

And look upon the dust of man with awe I ^ 

1 The Excursion, V, 655-657. 



THE EXCURSION 



273 



He briefly refers to men living, and then presents biographies of 
those buried in the churchyard. They are such as every country 
minister is famihar with — histories of joy and sorrow, success 
and failure, struggles and conquest, victory and defeat, generosity 
and meanness, fidelity and unfaithfulness, sin and repentance, 
good and evil, life and death. On the whole the record is a credit 
to Man. It shows that life is in many respects a tragedy. It is 
full of mystery. Suffering, however, plays its part in the human 
economy. It develops the virtues, and builds up character. And 
Man is not left to his own unaided efforts in the struggle ; there 
are many resources at his command. The virtues themselves which 
suffering calls forth, and which life develops, become in turn means 
of support. Furthermore, Nature and solitude minister to human 
need ; and Man's extremity, in the presence of life's mystery, 
becomes Faith's opportunity to show her might, and to prove her 
excellence. 

In short, Wordsworth's solution of the problem of life, in re- 
sponse to his own questioning as represented in the Solitary's 
doubts concerning its worth, and the worth of Man, is essentially 
the solution furnished by Christian Theism. Life is worth living, 
and the '' inner frame " of Man is good. But life must be grounded 
in faith in divine Providence, in immortality, and in those sublime 
virtues which alone confer value on the human soul. Suffering, 
however mysterious, is not an unmitigated evil, if, indeed, it be 
an evil at all. It calls to patience, perseverance, fidelity, resigna- 
tion, hope, faith, and love, and, in the final analysis, makes for 
the upbuilding of Man if he be willing to profit by it. Indeed, 
these very virtues themselves, which suffering develops, constitute, 
in a large measure, the means by which he may triumph over it.^ 

It is worthy of note that, even here, when the Poet is dealing 
more primarily with the immediate problems of life, he does not 
fail to record his belief in Nature's ministry to Man. She is one 
of the helpful agencies in restoring the sick soul — one of the 

1 The Excursion, V, VI, and VII. 



274 WORDSWORTH 

supports of the spirit when burdened with the weary weight of life's 
mysterious suffering. There is heaHng in her soHtudes, and minis- 
try in her beauty. Even Heaven commits afflicted souls to her 
loving care. She 

doth commend their weakness and disease 
To Nature's care, assisted in her office 
By all the elements that round her wait 
To generate, to preserve, and to restore ; 
And by her beautiful array of forms 
Shedding sweet influence from above ; or pure 
Delight exhaling from the ground they tread.^ 

^ But it must be observed, also, that we have here a change of 
mental attitude in Wordsworth. Heretofore we have found very 
little in his teaching that commends the suffering soul to the love 
and support of Divine Providence. On the whole, Nature has been 
regarded by him as the comforter, teacher, guide, and physician of 
the soul. She, rather than God or Divine Providence, has been 
considered as the ''one adequate support for the calamities of 
mortal life." To whom did he turn in those dark days when he 
was passing through the severe mental and moral crisis occasioned 
by his experience with the French Revolution t Was it not to 
Nature } It was to her *' beauteous forms " that he owed, 

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, 
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; 
And passing even into my [his] purer mind, 
With tranquil restoration.^ 

It was to her that he owed *' another gift, of aspect more sublime," 

that blessed mood. 
In which the burthen of the mystery. 
In which the heavy and the weary weight 
Of all this unintelligible world, 
Is lightened.* 

1 The Excursion, VI, 182-188. 

2 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 37-41. ^ ibid,, 37-41. 



THE EXCURSION 275 

He had felt the presence of a Spirit that '* rolls through all things," 
and that '* impels all thinking things " — that seemed to afford, some- 
how, a refuge to his soul, so that he was constrained to say : 

Therefore am I still 
A lover of the meadows and the woods, 
And mountains ; and of all that we behold 
From this green earth ; of all the mighty world 
Of eye, and ear, — both what they half create, 
And what perceive ; well pleased to recognise 
In nature and the language of the sense. 
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse. 
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
Of all my moral being.^ 

His experience with Nature had been such that he affirmed : 

'T is her privilege, 
Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
From joy to joy : for she can so inform 
The mind that is within us, so impress 
With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 
The dreary intercourse of daily life, 
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
Is full of blessings.'^ 

Our examination of Wordsworth's poetry, prior to the consideration 
of " The Excursion," revealed this to have been his mental attitude 
generally. Nature was considered as Man's counselor and guide — 
his refuge and strength. But it seems as though the Poet had 
gradually, under the stress of human experience, been led to em- 
phasize the religious, and especially the Christian, conception of 
God more than his poetic conception, although the two are in no 
respects opposed to each other. For example, this change is indi- 
cated in the words of the Wanderer : 

1 Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey, 102-111. 

2 Ibid., 123-134. 



276 WORDSWORTH 

One adequate support 
For the calamities of mortal life 
Exists — one only ; an assured belief 
That the procession of our fate, howe'er 
Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being 
Of infinite benevolence and power, 
Whose everlasting purposes embrace 
All accidents, converting them to good. 
— The darts of anguish T^jr not where the seat 
Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified 
By acquiescence in the Will supreme 
For time and for eternity ; by faith, 
Faith absolute in God, including hope. 
And the defence that lies in boundless love 
Of his perfections ; with habitual dread 
Of aught unworthily conceived, endured 
Impatiently, ill-done, or left undone, 
To the dishonour of his holy name. 
Soul of all Souls, and safeguard of the world ! 
Sustain, thou only canst, the sick of heart ; 
Restore their languid spirits, and recall 
Their lost affections unto thee and thine.^ 

Here religious faith, and especially the functioning and the content 
of Christian faith, seem to take the place of poetic intuition, with 
its apprehension of a Spirit pervading all things, and in close rela- 
tions to the spirit of Man. However, the Poet does not by any 
means abandon the latter in ''The Excursion," for, much as he 
exalts the office of religious faith, and much as he interprets life 
and the world from this standpoint, nevertheless, as we have seen 
above, his favorite conceptions of Nature, and of her relations to 
Man, still obtain, and even in the last book of '' The Excursion " 
we find these words : 

To every Form of being is assigned. 
Thus calmly spake the venerable Sage, 
An active Principle : — howe'er removed 
From sense and observation, it subsists 
In all things, in all natures ; in the stars 
Of azure heaven, the unenduring clouds, 

1 The Excursion, IV, 10-31. 



THE EXCURSION 277 

In flower and tree, in every pebbly stone 

That paves the brooks, the stationary rocks, 

The moving waters, and the invisible air, 

Whate'er exists hath properties that spread 

Beyond itself, communicating good, 

A simple blessing, or with evil mixed ; 

Spirit that knows no insulated spot. 

No chasm, no solitude ; from link to link 

It circulates, the Soul of all the worlds. 

This is the freedom of the universe ; 

Unfolded still the more, more visible, 

The more we know ; and yet is reverenced least, 

And least respected in the human Mind, 

Its most apparent home.^ 

As previously stated, the conceptions and beliefs of religious 
faith, and the poetic intuitions, in Wordsv\^orth's poetry, are not 
mutually opposed. In both cases they are essentially Theistic. 
Hov^^ever, in the latter instance he seems to apprehend Reality by 
means of a mystical mental process, whereas, in the former, he 
apprehends the content of his faith by means of the rational and 
religious consciousness, possibly aided by his aesthetic nature, as he 
mused or meditated on the mysterious problems which life espe- 
cially presented to his mind. In later years he seemed to take the 
religious rather than the earlier poetic attitude, as is manifest in 
the '* Ecclesiastical Sonnets." Whether this was due to a con- 
scious recognition of the inadequacy of the poetic attitude, or to 
that singular loss of mystical insight into Nature which he experi- 
enced about the time of the completion of *'The Excursion," to 
which reference will be made in the final chapter, it is impossible 
to say. But it is evident that, whatever may have been the reason, 
we have a more thoroughly religious mode of apprehending God, 
and his relations to Man, than in his earlier poetry, and therefore 
a more human mode — more human because it is far more common 
to Man himself than the other. In short, in ''The Excursion," 
and in the later poetry of Wordsworth, the content of the Poet's 

1 The Excursion, IX, 1-20. 



278 WORDSWORTH 

faith is essentially the same as in his earlier poetry, but the way of 
approach to ity or the mode of apprehending it^ is different. In 
Wordsworth's early poetry we have mystical vision and intuition ; 
in the later we have rational and religious meditation and belief. 
In the former we have immediate apprehension of Reality ; in the 
latter, mediate. The object of the former is the Spirit of Nature ; 
the object of the latter is a personal God. Therefore, in a sense, 
God figures more conspicuously than Nature in *' The Excursion " 
and '' Ecclesiastical Sonnets," 



CHAPTER XVII 
THE EXCURSION (CONCLUDED) 

In the eighth and ninth books of '' The Excursion " Wordsworth 
introduces the reader to some of his views on society, or the social 
order. After discussing the subjects of the worth of Man and the 
worth of Life, the Wanderer, in response to a little playful rally 
on the part of the Solitary concerning his humble calling, takes 
occasion to direct attention to the condition of Britain to-day as 
compared with that in earlier days, when he traveled about as a 
peddler. This change is specially marked in the industrial order, 
and he calls attention to its baneful effects on Nature and Man : 

I have lived to mark 
A new and unforeseen creation rise 
From out the labours of a peaceful Land 
Wielding her potent enginery to frame 
And to produce, with appetite as keen 
As that of war, which rests not night or day, 
Industrious to destroy ! ^ 

Practically all of the elements have been utilized to bring about 
this change. The result, of course, has been to make Britain one 
of the great marts of the world, and a power to be respected and 
feared. But all this progress has been made at frightful expense 
— the spoliation of Nature, and the bodily and moral welfare of 
the people. On all sides forests have been laid bare, streams pol- 
luted, and the beauty of Nature outraged. But more than this, it 
has resulted in much demoralization of the people. It dwarfs the 
bodily nature of the child, and lays the sure foundations of disease. 
It aims a blow, also, at the home. Parents and children work in 

1 The Excursion, VIII, 89-95. 
279 



28o WORDSWORTH 

factories, and domestic duty and happiness must of necessity suffer. 
It strikes at virtue in bringing the sexes together in unguarded 
fashion. It destroys the charm and peacefulness of country hfe — 
the simplicity and sobriety, the respect for old institutions and 
customs, both moral and religious — which heretofore proved a 
refuge from the busy world. These are the fruits of the manu- 
facturing spirit, and Wordsworth, in the words of the Wanderer, 
deplores them. He rejoices in the Nation's progress, and in the 
sovereignty of Man over Nature, but the physical enfeeblement 
of the child, and the social and moral degeneration which result 
from the industrial order, make him look upon this advance with 
grave misgiving and condemnation. To him the old life of toil, 
close to the heart of Nature, seems best for rural people. 

What hope rises from the new order of things .? '* We live by 
hope," continues the Wanderer, *' and by desire." Without them 
we languish and die. 'T is so with boyhood, with youth, and with 
manhood. Age looks back on childhood — the rising period of 
hope — with fondness. The good and wise will never be separated 
from hope, even in old age, which is forbidding, but which has an 
inviting aspect also, for it is as one seated on an eminence, far away 
from the busy noises of life, where, in its solitude, it can exercise 
the finer activities of sense and soul. And, indeed, may there not 
be a further purpose in the isolation or solitude of old age? It 

affords 

Fresh power to commune with the invisible world, 
And hear the mighty stream of tendency 
Uttering, for elevation of our thought, 
A clear sonorous voice,^ 

which cannot be heard by those who are busy with the world. 

But if old age may aspire to such hopes, they will be possible 
only to those whose minds have not been starved by neglect, and 
whose bodies have not been crushed by incessant toil. Nature 
loves Man, and if she be allowed to have her way with him, and 

1 The Excursion, IX, 86-89. 



THE EXCURSION 28 1 

Reason be permitted to rule, then the country, society, and time, 
through the grace of a beneficent God, make for his good, for, 
under such circumstances, all these forces partake 

Of one maternal spirit, bringing forth 
And cherishing with ever-constant love, 
That tires not, nor betrays.^ 

But life is turned from her true course when Man is converted 
into a mere tool or implement — a means for the realization of an 
end, there being no acknowledgment of his common right in the 
end itself. This weakens his power for good, and strengthens his 
power for evil. Man was not born for such issues as these. How- 
ever, on the other hand, when he is not thus degraded and re- 
strained, the very powers which, under such restraint, make for 
evil, become forces for good. 

Of course, the Wanderer is here aiming his shafts at the social 
and industrial order referred to above — an order which seemed to 
him to starve the mind and crush the body, and to override the in- 
herent claims of human personality. There is, indeed, a difference, 
continues the Wanderer, between the victims of this order, and the 
unfortunate peasant class referred to by the Solitary in disparaging 
Nature's assistance to Man. The latter class are slaves of igno- 
rance and want, but they are *' lineal heirs" of this vassalage; 
their ancestors bequeathed this unhappy legacy to them. But no 
one delights in such oppression, nor are any proud of it. It is a 
vice indigenous to every country. But the industrial evil is of a 
different character. It is a slavery that wears the aspect of good. 
It is a case in which a thing in itself beneficent has been carried to 
an extreme, and its very victims, as well as those responsible for 
them, are self -deceived, believing an evil to be a good. Even the 
wise have been misled, and think that these newer methods of in- 
dustry make for the betterment of society. This is a grave delusion, 
and the Wanderer mourns for these children of rural England, 
whom he has seen corrupted, whose innocence and love circumstance 

1 The Excursion, IX, 111-113. 



282 WORDSWORTH 

and Nature would have sheltered and cherished — children who 

might have lived in health and strength, and in tranquillity of 

mind, but for the intrusion of these unjust industrial conditions. 

How man differs from man ! And he himself is responsible for 

it. He has established a social order that gives us the oppressor 

and the oppressed, the wise and the ignorant, the rich and the 

poor. This is not Nature's method. There is a natural equality 

that belongs to men. It is fundamental. The common joys of 

Nature exist for all. All possess the same noble gifts of reason 

and imagination, will and conscience. All must taste death, but 

all, too, can conceive an immortality for him who proves worthy 

of it. 

Strange, then, nor less than monstrous, might be deemed 

The failure, if the Almighty, to this point 

Liberal and undistinguishing, should hide 

The excellence of moral qualities 

From common understanding ; leaving truth 

And virtue, difficult, abstruse, and dark ; 

Hard to be won, and only by a few ; 

Strange, should He deal herein with nice respects, 

And frustrate all the rest ! Believe it not : 

The primal duties shine aloft — like stars ; 

The charities that soothe, and heal, and bless, 

Are scattered at the feet of Man — like flowers. 

The generous inclination, the just rule. 

Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure thoughts — 

No mystery is here ! Here is no boon 

For high — yet not for low ; for proudly graced — 

Yet not for meek of heart. The smoke ascends 

To heaven as lightly from the cottage-hearth 

As from the haughtiest palace. He, whose soul 

Ponders this true equality, may walk 

The fields of earth with gratitude and hope ; 

Yet, in that meditation, will he find 

Motive to sadder grief, as we have found ; 

Lamenting ancient virtues overthrown, 

And for the injustice grieving, that hath made 

So wide a difference between man and man.^ 

1 The Excursion, IX, 229-254. 



THE EXCURSION 283 

An order of society that thus differentiates man from man, that 
creates such marked moral distinctions, that permits some men 
to prosper at the frightful expense of others, that builds up mate- 
rial interests by wasting the bodies and impoverishing the souls of 
many — such an order is against the will of Nature, who accords 
equal moral rights and gifts to all. And the Wanderer expresses 
a hope that England will soon bind herself by statute to secure 
for all her children elementary education, and training in moral 

and religious truth, 

so that none, 
However destitute, be left to droop 
By timely culture unsustained ; or run 
Into a wild disorder ; or be forced 
To drudge through a weary life without the help 
Of intellectual implements and tools ; 
A savage horde among the civilised, 
A servile band among the lordly free ! ^ 

This, he holds, is their essential right. Furthermore, ignorance 

breeds discontent and strife. England needs the '* discipline of 

virtue " : 

Order else 
Cannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace. 
Thus, duties rising out of good possest, 
And prudent caution needful to avert 
Impending evil, equally require 
That the whole people should be taught and trained. 
So shall licentiousness and black resolve 
Be rooted out, and virtuous habits take 
Their place ; and genuine piety descend, 
Like an inheritance, from age to age.^ 

If this be done, Britain need not fear an increase of population. 
It will not constitute a menace. Rather may she rejoice in it. Thus 
prepared for life, she can send her people forth to establish new 
communities wherever conditions favor hope, and can promise to 
perseverance and skill a just reward. 

1 The Excursion, IX, 303-310. 2 ibid., IX, 353-362. 



284 WORDSWORTH 

Of course it is Wordsworth who speaks here through the Wan- 
derer. However, in this protest against social conditions, it must 
not be inferred that we have a would-be reformer ranting against 
class distinctions and industrial progress. He is not a fanatic, nor an 
unreasoning and unreasonable observer of the social order. What 
he is inveighing against is material progress which involves a 
sacrifice of the health and strength of the people, as well as of their 
intellectual and moral welfare. Especially is he impressed by the 
moral aspects of the spread of the manufacturing spirit. He feels 
that the methods of industry are degrading. The people are being 
corrupted by them. The home, the very fountain-head of virtue, 
is being broken up. There is a gradual weakening of parental and 
filial relations. He thinks, too, that the sexes are thrown into un- 
natural and unsafe relations, and modesty and virtue are therefore 
threatened. He feels that respect for ancient social, moral, and reli- 
gious institutions is disappearing, and that society is pervaded by a 
general moral laxity. Furthermore, he believes this system to be 
responsible for the dwarfed bodies of children, because of their 
premature introduction to factory life, and that this bodily dete- 
rioration weakens their moral power. He speaks as a lover of 
Man, and as a lover of his country, ambitious for her true wel- 
fare. It is the man, and the poet of Man, lifting up his voice 
against that which seems to him a great social and moral wrong. 
He emphasizes the sound ethical principle, that no person can be 
used merely as a means — as a mere tool or instrument for the 
realization of an end in which he has no inherent interest. Man 
is an ethical being, and he must be regarded and treated as 
such — not as a means, but as an end in himself, as Kant says. 
Progress cannot be justified from any point of view that overlooks 
this fact, and no social order should be tolerated that makes 
against, rather than for, Man's moral development. A Nation's 
greatness rests upon the moral worth of its people, and its prime 
duty is to secure to all born upon its soil the opportunities for at 
least an elementary education, and training in morality and religion. 



THE EXCURSION 285 

*'The Excursion" closes with this discussion of the industrial 
order. It is a long and, to some persons, a tedious poem. One 
can understand, although he may not sympathize with, Jeffrey's 
famous criticism, '* It will not do." One can also understand how 
a man of Byron's temperament should speak of '* a drowsy, frowzy 
poem, call'd ' The Excursion.' " On the other hand, one can also 
appreciate such praise as men like Hazlitt, H. Crabb Robinson, 
Southey, Charles Lamb, and others, bestowed upon it. Hazlitt 
opened his review in the Examiner by saying : ''In power of 
intellect, in lofty conception, in the depth of feeling at once simple 
and sublime, which pervades every part of it, and which gives 
to every object an almost preternatural and preterhuman interest, 
this work has seldom been surpassed." ^ Robinson could place it 
''among the noblest works of the human intellect," and to him 
it was also " one of the most delightful." Southey, after reading 
it, was sure that "it is by the side of Milton that Wordsworth will 
have his station awarded him by posterity." Charles Lamb said, 
"It is the noblest conversational poem I ever read — a day in 
Heaven." 

And so it has been since Wordsworth's day ; critics have con- 
demned and admired it. Unquestionably it has both merit and 
demerit. That it is gravely serious, sometimes gloomy, and more 
or less prosaic, frequently prolix, and, of course, without dramatic 
action, is evident. On the other hand, that it is full of noble senti- 
ment, lofty conception, profound and tender feeling, beautiful de- 
scription, eloquent apostrophe, sound teaching, and wise observation, 
is also evident to him who carefully peruses it. Of immediate 
interest to us, however, are the views of Nature, Man, and Human 
Life, which the author embodies in this didactic poem, and which 
must be summarized before the poem is dismissed. 

Concerning the Poet's attitude toward Nature, as expressed in 
" The Excursion," it may be said that it is virtually the same as 
in his other works already considered, with the qualifications noted 
1 Hazlitt, The English Poets, p. 343. 



286 WORDSWORTH 

in the previous chapter. All through this elaborate poem there is 
manifest that ardent love of Nature so conspicuous in the poems of 
the *' Lyrical Ballads," and of the Grasmere period. Every book 
bears testimony to this fact. And the same peculiarities of the 
Nature-poet that have been revealed to us in the large body of verse 
already interpreted are evident here also. We see both the land- 
scape artist and the poet of insight. He views Nature in her ex- 
ternal features, enchanted by the variety and beauty of her forms, 
but he sees also deep into her inner life. Indeed, in "The Ex- 
cursion," more than elsewhere, Wordsworth seems to be a descrip- 
tive poet, and often paints for us superb pictures of the face 
of Nature. What Professor Masson has said of Wordsworth as a 
descriptive poet is specially confirmed in *' The Excursion " : ''It 
was one of his most valued claims, therefore, that he should be 
considered a genuine English descriptive poet. And certainly this 
is a claim that even those who think most humbly of his attain- 
ments cannot deny him. There would be a propriety, we think, 
in remembering Wordsworth as a descriptive poet along with 
Chaucer and Thomson, thus distinguishing him both from such 
poets as Burns and Tennyson, on the one hand, and from such 
poets as Keats on the other. In such poets as Burns and Tenny- 
son, the element of what may be called human reference is always 
so decided that, though no poets describe Nature more beautifully 
when they have occasion, it would still be improper to speak of 
them specially as descriptive poets. To borrow a distinction from 
the sister art, it may be said that, if Burns and Tennyson are more 
properly classed with the figure-painters, notwithstanding the ex- 
treme beauty and finish of their natural background, so, on the 
same principle, Wordsworth, whose skill in delineating the human 
subject is also admitted, may yet not erroneously be classed with 
the landscape-painters. On the other hand, he differs from poets 
like Keats in this, that, being a native of the country, and accus- 
tomed therefore to the appearances of rural nature in all seasons, 
he does not confound Nature with Vegetation. In the poetry of 



THE EXCURSION 287 

Keats, as all must feel, there is an excess of merely botanical 
imagery ; in reading his descriptions we seem either to breathe 
the air of a hothouse, heavy with the moist odors of great-leafed 
exotics, or to lie full-stretched at noon in some shady nook in a 
wood, rank underneath with the pipy hemlock, and kindred plants 
of strange overgrowth. In Wordsworth, as we have seen, there is 
no such unhealthy lusciousness. He has his spots of thick herbage, 
and his banks of florid richness too ; but what he delights in is the 
broad, clear expanse, the placid lake, the pure pellucid air, the 
quiet outline of the mountain." ^ 

But "The Excursion" also reveals the poet of insight — the 
mystical intuitionalist — possessed of "the vision and the faculty 
divine," whose mind transcends the limits of sense and ordinary 
poetic imagination, and sees into the inner life of Reality. As a 
result we find, as elsewhere, a rich spiritual conception of the 
physical world. Book I, which records the history of the Wan- 
derer, is saturated with this spiritual conception of corporeal things, 
and in Book IX we find the Poet afiirming an active Principle in 
" every form of being " — " the Soul of all the worlds " — uniting 
all things into a spiritual brotherhood. ^ 

Furthermore, this Spirit of Nature ministers to human need. 
She brings consolation in distress, and comfort and healing to the 
sick soul. She is Man's counselor and friend, his teacher in moral 
and spiritual things, inciting him to high and holy purpose, and 
granting him wisdom, inspiration, and peace. Of all the fine 
passages in the numerous poems previously considered, in which 
our Poet speaks of Nature's relations to Man, it is questionable 
whether any of them can equal the eloquent description of Nature's 
ministry to Man presented in Book IV of " The Excursion." 
Indeed, it may be questioned whether, in the history of Nature- 
poetry, anything can be found to surpass it. Wordsworth here pro- 
claims, in lofty verse, and with fervent spirit, the power of Nature to 
tranquilize, heal, dignify, inspire, teach, and bless the human soul. 

1 Masson's Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, 45-46. ^ The Excursion, IX, 1-20. 



288 WORDSWORTH 

Still another point evident from '' The Excursion," which is in 
harmony with what we have previously seen, is that Wordsworth's 
spiritual conception of Nature is rooted in his early mystical ex- 
perience, and especially in the more pronounced forms of it as 
manifested in the trance-consciousness of his boyhood and youth. 
The mental history of the Wanderer, recorded in Book I, which 
is essentially the mental history of the Poet, proves this. It was 
in these ''high hours" that the corporeal world seemed to have 
but a shadowy existence at best, and that Spirit appeared to be the 
great Reality. This gradually ripened into an abiding faith, which 
is the very soul of his earlier poetry, and, in a sense, the essence 
of his religion, for he soon conceived of this Spirit as not only the 
heart of all things, but as sustaining relations to, yes, as having its 
abode in, the mind of Man, and performing a most sacred office 
for him. So convinced was he of the truth of all this that he re- 
garded it as a heavenly illumination, and believed himself called 
to be the oracle through which this spiritual revelation was to be 
made known to men. 

One thing more ought to be noted here, and that is the Poet's 
attitude toward Science in her methods of dealing with Nature. 
Wordsworth is sometimes represented as being hostile to Science, 
and his severe condemnation of her in *'The Excursion," unless 
carefully examined, might furnish grounds for such a conception. 
In the Wanderer's conversation with the Solitary he takes occasion 
to rebuke modem Science for losing the Soul of things in her 
methods of dealing with the world. He compares our '* Great Dis- 
coverers " with the devotees of heathen religions, who see a spirit 
in things, and then exclaims : Shall they obtain 

From sense and reason less than these obtained, 
Though far misled ? Shall men for whom our age 
Unbaffled powers of vision hath prepared, 
To explore the world without and world within, 
Be joyless as the blind ? Ambitious spirits — 
Whom earth, at this late season, hath produced 
To regulate the moving spheres, and weigh 



THE EXCURSION 289 

The planets in the hollow of their hand ; 

And they who rather dive than soar, whose pains 

Have solved the elements, or analysed 

The thinking principle — shall they in fact 

Prove a degraded Race ? and what avails 

Renown, if their presumption make them such ? 

Oh ! there is laughter at their work in heaven ! 

Enquire of ancient Wisdom ; go, demand 

Of mighty Nature, if 't was ever meant 

That we should pry far off yet be unraised ; 

That we should pore, and dwindle as we pore, 

Viewing all objects unremittingly 

In disconnection dead and spiritless ; 

And still dividing, and dividing still. 

Break down all grandeur, still unsatisfied 

With the perverse attempt, while littleness 

May yet become more little ; waging thus 

An impious warfare with the very life 

Of our own souls ! ^ 

But this does not end Wordsworth's condemnation of the atti- 
tude of Science. He protests against her arrogance and irreverence. 
There is no spiritual uplift in her methods, and her motives and 
ends evince a haughty self-love. Nature herself is offended by all 

this: 

And if indeed there be 

An all-pervading Spirit, upon whom 

Our dark foundations rest, could he design 

That this magnificent effect of power. 

The earth we tread, the sky that we behold 

By day, and all the pomp which night reveals ; 

That these — and that superior mystery 

Our vital frame, so fearfully devised. 

And the dread soul within it — should exist 

Only to be examined, pondered, searched. 

Probed, vexed, and criticised ? — Accuse me not 

Of arrogance, unknown Wanderer as I am. 

If, having walked with Nature threescore years, 

And offered, far as frailty would allow, 

My heart a daily sacrifice to Truth, 

^ The Excursion, IV, 943-968. 



290 WORDSWORTH 

I now affirm of Nature and of Truth, 

Whom I have served, that their Divinity 

Revolts, offended at the ways of men 

Swayed by such motives, to such ends employed ; 

Philosophers, who, though the human soul 

Be of a thousand faculties composed. 

And twice ten thousand interests, do yet prize 

This soul, and the transcendent universe, 

No more than as a mirror that reflects 

To proud Self-love her own intelligence ; 

That one, poor, finite object, in the abyss 

Of infinite Being, twinkling restlessly ! ^ 

It might be inferred from this that Wordsworth was really hostile 
to scientific investigation, especially when the above protest is read 
in connection with similar ones uttered in other parts of '* The Ex- 
cursion," and in "The Tables Turned," ''A Poet's Epitaph," and 
" Stanzas suggested in a Steamboat off St. Bees' Heads." How- 
ever natural this inference, it is contrary to the real facts in the 
case. Not infrequently does Wordsworth pay his tribute to Science, 
acknowledging especially her beneficent work in the practical ap- 
plication of her results. What the Poet objects to is her '' brutish 
slavery " to the object, her subjection to sense (her votaries often 
having no mind '* but the mind of their own eyes "), her contempt 
for imagination, her indifference to beauty, her arrogance and 
irreverence, her heartless methods, her blindness to the Soul of 
things, her general materialism and lack of spiritual insight. There 
is much more in Nature than Science sees, or can see, with her 
purely intellectual methods. She seems lost to the higher meaning 
of things, and especially to their meaning for Man. She fails to 
perceive the lofty offices of Nature — her moral, aesthetic, aye, 
and even her religious ministry. To all this Science seems blind, 
and she often affronts Nature herself by her pride and self-love. 
It is against this that Wordsworth inveighs, and his protest is 
the earnest protest of one who has walked daily with Nature, 
recognizing and communing with her Spirit, learning with *' the 

^ The Excursion, IV, 968-994. 



THE EXCURSION 29 1 

practised eye," '' the inevitable ear," and '' the watchful heart " the 
lessons that she had to impart. To him Nature had a voice, and 
she spake of God and things eternal, of high and holy truths, of 
consolation and spiritual healing, of wisdom and moral strength. 
For him, too, she had visions and illuminations that disclosed her 
inner being. When this is remembered, we can understand how 
his poetic soul at times became impatient with him '' whose mind 
is but the mind of his own eyes " ; whose irreverence permits him 
to '' peep and botanize upon his mother's grave" ; whose '' meddling 
intellect " misshapes "the beauteous forms of things," and ''murders 
to dissect " ; whose mind can *' pry far off yet be unraised," or 
" pore and dwindle as it pores " ; and whose soul ruthlessly un- 
souls the universe. For such a mind Wordsworth had little sym- 
pathy ; but for the studious, reverent, far-seeing man of science, 
who sees the life of things behind their external forms — the unity 
of Nature beyond her manifold shapes — and tries to learn the high 
ends which she subserves, the Poet had a welcome hand and a 
sympathetic heart. He recognized the fact that there is no neces- 
sary antagonism between the Poet who looks at Nature with the 
eye of sense, and with the eye of imagination, and the Scientist 
who views her form through sense and reason. Indeed, he has 
left on record an admirable statement of his views of the relations 
between Poetry and Science. In it there is not the slightest 
evidence of a feeling that mutual hostility necessarily exists be- 
tween them. Rather, in many respects, does he think the Poet 
and Scientist have the same end in view — to give pleasure — 
and that only cordial relations naturally exist between their respec- 
tive disciplines. In fact. Science is, in a sense, the help-meet of 
Poetry, and Poetry is a supplement to Science. In the Preface to 
the ''Lyrical Ballads" it is stated that the Poet "considers man 
and nature as essentially adapted to each other, and the mind of 
man as naturally the mirror of the fairest and most interesting 
qualities of nature. And thus the Poet, prompted by this feeling 
of pleasure which accompanies him through the whole course of 



292 WORDSWORTH 

his studies, converses with general nature, with affections akin to 
those, which, through labour and length of time, the man of science 
has raised up in himself, by conversing with those particular parts 
of nature which are the objects of his studies. The knowledge 
both of the Poet and the man of science is pleasure ; but the knowl- 
edge of the one cleaves to us as a necessary part of our existence, 
our natural and inalienable inheritance ; the other is a personal 
and individual acquisition, slow to come to us, and by no habitual 
and direct sympathy connecting us with our fellow-beings. The 
man of science seeks truth as a remote and unknown benefactor ; 
he cherishes and loves it as his solitude : the Poet, singing a song 
in which all human beings join with him, rejoices in the presence 
of truth as our visible friend and hourly companion. Poetry is the 
breath and finer spirit of all knowledge ; it is the impassioned ex- 
pression which is in the countenance of all Science." ^ It is evident 
from all this that Wordsworth is not hostile to scientific investigation 
when it is carried on in the right spirit. 

And now, passing from Wordsworth's treatment of Nature in 
" The Excursion," to summarize his views on Man as contained 
therein, we find that he takes the same attitude toward Man, and 
expresses the same sentiments concerning him, to be found in the 
rest of his verse. Here he is the lover of Man just as truly as in 
the '' Lyrical Ballads," and in other poems. Men as they commend 
themselves for consideration are men in their elemental passions 

and feelings — 

chiefly those 

Essential and eternal in the heart, 

That, 'mid the simpler forms of rural life, 

Exist more simple in their elements, 

And speak a plainer language.^ 

All through '' The Excursion " he deals with simple characters — 
persons who move in the humbler walks of life. He takes as his 
subjects chiefly the dalesmen of Grasmere Vale. In the very 

1 Prose Works, edited by William Knight, I, 61-62. 

2 The Excursion, I, 343-347. 



THE EXCURSION 293 

beginning of this elaborate poem we see him influenced by the same 
conviction respecting men as he expresses in Book XIII of "The 
Prelude," and in the Preface to the *' Lyrical Ballads," and as he 
illustrates in the ballads themselves. In the story of the ruined cot- 
tage he tells a pathetic tale of domestic sorrow. The narratives told 
by the Pastor in the churchyard, as we have seen, are those of village 
characters — a story of simple lives. And when he takes up the 
cause of Man, in Books VIII and IX, it is the cause of the plain 
rural folk whose bodily, intellectual, and moral welfare is threatened 
by modem industrial life. His heart is with these lowly people, 
and he regards them as the corner-stone of the Nation. Briefly, 
''The Excursion" reveals the poet of Man, with a heart full of 
love for him, and a mind solicitous for his welfare. It reveals, 
also, that this poet sees Man at his best among the unconven- 
tionalized rural folk who occupy the modest and obscure stations 
of human life. 

In regard to Man's essential being, Wordsworth, in '' The Ex- 
cursion," represents him as endowed with a rational, moral, and 
religious nature — with capacities for self-determination and self- 
guidance in the light of lofty ideals. His nature is godlike, and 
he can commune with God. He is a creature of faith, hope, and 
love, and holds membership in a kingdom of eternal worths. His 
** inner frame " is good, and in it are the promise and potency of 
immortal life. And, concerning Human Life, the Poet's interpre- 
tation is essentially Christian, especially his interpretation of mental, 
moral, and physical suffering — '* the good and evil of our mortal 
state." The faith that subdues '' melancholy fear " — which brings 
" blessed consolations in distress," and the moral strength needed 
for the soul's support — is, in the final analysis, really the faith of 
the Gospels. 

It must not be inferred, however, that Wordsworth was merely 
giving utterance to an inherited traditional faith. We have seen 
how he was lost in the mazes of skepticism, and in the darkness 
of despair, and how gradually he had worked his way out into the 



294 WORDSWORTH 

light. Undoubtedly much of the teaching of "The Excursion" 
represents his own independent thinking as he sought light on 
these profound problems which his bitter experience had brought 
most conspicuously before him. As he meditated on them, he grad- 
ually came to the conclusion that the faiths which condition the 
real worth of life are those which are fundamentally Christian ; 
and he accepted them, not because they are Christian, but because 
they, above all else, impart a rational meaning to human experience. 
It is not, therefore, a blind faith which the Poet sings, but one 
that is the result of mature meditation as he labored under what 
often seemed to him ** the heavy and the weary weight of all this 
unintelligible world." 



CHAPTER XVIII 

THE PERIOD OF WORDSWORTH'S BEST WORK. SUMMARY. 
WORDSWORTH'S CONTRIBUTION TO POETRY 

It is a difficult and highly uncertain task to determine when in a 
poet's development he reaches the height of his power. It is prob- 
ably a still more uncertain task to indicate the limits beyond which 
his poetic activity becomes worth while. This is due to the fact that 
genius itself is uncertain. In spite of its peculiarity, however, it is, 
in a measure, subject to the laws of development which obtain in the 
biological and psychological realms. It grows, develops, matures, 
and decays. But it seems more fitful and freakish than ordinary 
mentality. With poets like Tennyson, it holds out well to the end. 
In other instances it is subject to a comparatively early decay. In 
the case of Wordsworth it is not such a difficult undertaking to 
determine, approximately at least, the period in which he did his 
best work, and when he reached the climax of his power as a poet. 
Matthew Arnold, in his Preface to '* The Poems of Wordsworth," 
says, '' Wordsworth composed verses during a space of some sixty 
years ; and it is no exaggeration to say that within one single decade 
of these years, between 1799 and 1808, almost all his really first- 
rate work was produced." ^ This statement is not justified by the 
facts. A considerable body of excellent verse was written by him 
later. Principal Shairp's chart, which is accepted also by Professor 
Dowden, as mapping out " in a broad and general way " the chro- 
nology of Wordsworth, is more nearly correct. He says : '' There 
were three epochs in Wordsworth's poetry, though these shade so 
insensibly the one into the other, that any attempt exactly to define 
them must be somewhat arbitrary. . . . The spring-time of his 

1 Arnold, Essays in Criticism, Second Series, 136, London, 1898. 

29s 



296 WORDSWORTH 

genius would reach from his first settling at Racedown, or at any 
rate his going to Alfoxden in 1797, till his leaving Grasmere Town- 
End in 1808. The second epoch, or full midsummer of his poetry, 
would include his time at Allan Bank and his first years at Rydal 
Mount, as far as 18 18 or 1820. This was the time when 'The 
Excursion,' ' Laodamia,' * Dion,' and the ' Duddon Sonnets ' were 
composed. The third epoch, or the sober autumn, reaching from 
about 1820 till he ceased from the work of composition, is the time 
of the ecclesiastical and other sonnets, of ' Yarrow Revisited,' and 
the Scottish poems of 1833 ; ^^^ lastly, of the memorials of his 
Italian tour in 1837." ^ Although statements of this kind are more 
or less arbitrary, the body of his poetry written before the end 
of the year 1 8 1 3 — the year that witnessed the completion of 
"The Excursion " — constitutes the limit of our study. This seems 
to be a safe limit, so far as our special purpose is concerned, for it 
can hardly be questioned that, were the study of Wordsworth as 
a poet of Nature and a poet of Man to be pursued beyond this 
boundary, it would yield comparatively meager results. It was dur- 
ing these years that his genius as a Nature-poet seemed to glow 
with an almost heavenly radiance — when he was literally possessed 
of "the vision and the faculty divine." It was during these years 
that, in his relations to the natural world, he was enabled " to see 
into the life of things " — that he was Nature's high priest, and was 
attended by " the vision splendid." But it is a singular and pathetic 
fact that this mystical insight, which was such a notable feature of 
his poetic genius, seemed to vanish at about the close of this period. 
It appeared to die away, " and fade into the light of common day," 
and with its fading, Wordsworth was shorn of much of his remark- 
able power as a poet of Nature. He himself was conscious of this 
fact, and he turned to other sources for inspiration, as is manifest, 
for example, in his excellent poems " Laodamia " and '' Dion," 
and in the " Ecclesiastical Sonnets." True, he wrote Nature-poems 

1 The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, edited by Edward Dowden, 
I, p. Ixxii, London and New York, 1892. 



THE PERIOD OF WORDSWORTH'S BEST WORK 297 

later than 18 13, and some, too, of admirable character. For in- 
stance, the beautiful ode '' Composed upon an Evening of extra- 
ordinary Splendour and Beauty," in which the radiant mystical 
vision appears, for a moment, to have been '' by miracle restored," ^ 
"The River Duddon" (a series of sonnets), *' Yarrow Visited," 
" Yarrow Revisited," and ''The Primrose of the Rock " are poems 
of a fairly high order. But, meritorious as they and others of sim- 
ilar character are, they partake chiefly of the nature of descriptive 
poetry. Usually they are wanting in that peculiar mystical in- 
sight which dominates much of the Nature-poetry belonging to the 
years that witnessed Wordsworth at his best as a poet. In these 
later years he is still a lover of Nature ; both his poetry and his 
prose works indicate this. But he is not the poet of rare spiritual 
intuition, seeing deep into the inner life of material Reality, and 
apprehending Nature's meaning for Man. The vision revealing 
the Soul of things has vanished, and, as a rule, he gazes merely 
upon their external form. There is, too, in his later poetry, an 
almost unconscious change in his attitude toward Nature as a refuge 
for the soul. The grief caused by the death of his brother, the 
chastening experiences of life, the discipline of sorrow, '' the bur- 
then of the mystery " of a world that human reason often finds 
impossible to understand, seemed gradually to lead him to a de- 
pendence on Christian faith much more than on his Nature-faith 
for power to comfort and sustain the human soul. This was noted 
in the last chapter. How marked this change was may be seen in 
the " Ecclesiastical Sonnets." In this large body of verse the word 
" Nature " does not occur half a dozen times. Here his poetry 
enshrines his Christian belief rather than his earlier Nature-faith. 
Of course this would naturally be expected from the subject with 
which the Poet is dealing, but the very fact that he selects such 
a subject reveals how different his mental and spiritual attitude is 
from that of his earlier years. The vision and the gleam have de- 
parted. He sees now with the eye of Christian faith, and with the 

1 Composed upon an Evening of extraordinary Splendour and Beauty, 76. 



298 WORDSWORTH 

eye of reason, rather than with the eye of mystical intuition. Still, 
it is interesting to note in these sonnets, as Professor Dowden 
points out, that here, too, Wordsworth evidently '* found the Divine 
Presence abroad in nature and in the spirit of man, and refused 
to narrow it to a paddock, Anglican or other." ^ 

Wordsworth's interest in Man, also, continued beyond this period. 
Political sonnets appear from time to time, revealing the Poet's 
keen interest in the course of events. They show him still zealous 
for the liberties and welfare of the people. The sonnets of 18 16 
furnish an interesting example. The '' Ecclesiastical Sonnets," 
also, deal with a great human institution and, therefore, with Man. 
But here, also, there is a gradual falling off in power. Human na- 
ture, as it engrossed him in the ** Lyrical Ballads," and in many of 
the short poems written at Grasmere, as well as in his two elaborate 
poems — ''The Prelude" and ''The Excursion" — does not occupy 
the place in his mind and heart that it once filled. There is com- 
paratively little interpretation and exaltation of the primary feelings 
and passions, or exploiting of the fundamental virtues, as they are 
to be found in men living close to Nature — whose lives show the 
fashioning of her hand. Man thus considered no longer constitutes 
the Poet's prime source of inspiration. When, therefore, the year 
that witnessed the completion of " The Excursion " is set as the 
limit of our study of Wordsworth's development as a poet of 
Nature and a poet of Man, this does not seem to be purely 
arbitrary, but rather a line fixed, in a sense, by Nature herself. 
Regarding this, then, as the end of our journey, and reviewing 
" our long labour," we can say, in the words of him whose mental 
and spiritual evolution as a poet of Nature and a poet of Man we 
have been studying : 

We have traced the stream 
From the blind cavern whence is faintly heard 
Its natal murmur ; followed it to light 
And open day ; accompanied its course 

1 Dowden, The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, I, p. Ixi, 1892. 



SUMMARY 299 

Among the ways of Nature, for a time 
Lost sight of it bewildered and engulphed ; 
Then given it greeting as it rose once more 
In strength, reflecting from its placid breast 
The works of man and face of human life ; 
And lastly, from its progress have we drawn 
Faith in life endless, the sustaining thought 
Of human Being, Eternity, and God.^ 

But we have endeavored to trace the stream in more of its tribu- 
taries and branches, in more of its currents and undercurrents, and 
farther in its progress than did our Poet in '' The Prelude," and 
it might be well, before bringing our study to a close, to look back 
and gather up our most important observations with reference to 
the content of Wordsworth's faith concerning Nature and Man. 

First, it was found that, from childhood up to the close of the 
period of our study, Wordsworth's mind was possessed of the be- 
lief that Nature is something more than inert, insensate brute- 
matter — that she is endowed with conscious life. It was found 
that his conception of this Spirit in things varies. Sometimes he 
conceives of things and places as possessing souls of their own. 
Again, he seems to regard all things as permeated by one universal 
Spiritual Presence. The latter conception dominates his poetry. 
Furthermore, he does not say what matter, or corporeal reality, in 
itself is. He does not determine for us whether it is a mode of 
spiritual activity, or something sui generis. Nor does he deal with 
the metaphysical problem of the ultimate relation of material being 
to the Soul of things. He seems to conceive their relation as 
similar to that which exists between mind and body. 

Secondly, it was seen also that, as Wordsworth gained more in- 
sight into Nature, he conceived of joyousness as being a part of 
her essential life. It became his faith '*that every flower enjoys 
the air it breathes," and not only every flower, but trees and birds, 
and, indeed, even so-called inanimate objects. The heart of Nature 
is a joyous heart. Her whole being throbs with pleasure. 

1 The Prelude, XIV, 194-205. 



300 WORDSWORTH 

Thirdly, Nature's life is a life of love also. Love pervades all 
things. It lies at the very core of all that is. It governs the re- 
lations of things with things, of things with men, and of men 
with men. Man and Nature are bound together in a kingdom 
in which love constitutes the omnipresent bond of Reality. . 

Fourthly, the Spirit of Nature is an ethical spirit, also, and mo- 
rality is a part of her essential life. A moral Spirit lives in all 
things. Indeed, they are bound together by moral relations and 
laws. The order of the universe, to which the stars in their courses, 
as well as the minutest objects, are subject, is a moral order. 

Fifthly, the Spirit of Nature is also a spirit of Wisdom. This is 
preeminently manifest in the offices which she performs in her 
relations to Man. She is in possession of resources that qualify 
her to perform a service which makes for his real welfare, and 
Wordsworth, at least by implication, seems to regard Wisdom as 
part of her fundamental life. 

Turning from Wordsworth's conception of Nature's essential 
life to her functioning, we have found that Wordsworth conceives 
of Nature as sustaining the following important relations to Man : 

First, from the very dawn of Man's existence she is in close 
relation to him, building and fashioning his soul. She builds and 
shapes human personality by operating especially through Man's 
emotional nature, and preeminently through the moral emotions. 

Secondly, one of her principal offices is that of a moral teacher 
and guide to Man. From his childhood she performs this ministry, 
disciplining by her interventions — by her visitations of soft alarm, 
or by a ministry more palpable. She counsels, inspires, and impels 
to right living. She teaches and exemplifies the virtues, and warns 
against the vices. From her we learn more concerning good and 
evil than from all human teachers. Indeed, she serves as an ideal 
or pattern for Man. From her he can frame the measure of his 
own soul. However, under some circumstances, she incites to evil. 
One may be so constituted that, through sensitiveness to her vo- 
luptuous beauty, she may minister to the sensual within him, or 



SUMMARY 301 

he may so frequently violate the laws of his moral being, that her 
wilder moods may intensify his passions, and increase his spiritual 
callousness. 

Thirdly, Nature may inform the mind along other than purely 
moral lines. The mighty sum of things has a voice, and speaks a 
message to the receptive and reverent mind. Nature can and does 
reveal truths to the intellect, and also to the higher spiritual nature 
of Man. She grants insight into the life of things, vouchsafing a 
much more profound conception of Reality than is to be gained 
by the analytical methods of science. She discloses her inner life 
or spirit to the reverent inquirer. Indeed, to the communing, sym- 
pathetic mind she furnishes a still deeper revelation to the soul — 
visions of God, and of the Spirit's eternal destiny. 

Fourthly, Nature is a comforter and physician to Man. She brings 
consolations in distress, calm in anxiety and fret, support in weari- 
ness, healing in sickness, hope in despair, ministering to Man 
through her beauteous forms and through her manifestations of 
sympathy and love. 

In short, we have found Wordsworth's faith to be, that there 
is a spiritual Presence dwelling in all things, and in the mind 
of Man. It is the quickening Power of both. As the Soul of 
things, it ministers in divers manners to the bodily, intellectual, 
aesthetic, moral, and even religious nature of Man. It is his 
builder, fashioner, counselor, physician, teacher, and friend. In- 
stead of a crass materialism, or a naive realism, the Poet gives us 
a spiritual interpretation of all Reality. Instead of a crude Deism, 
with merely a transcendent God, he gives us a world alive with the 
quickening power of an all-pervading Spirit. Instead of an all-en- 
gulfing Pantheism he teaches the transcendence of God, while, at 
the same time, predicating his immanence — preserving, however, 
the reality and individuality of God, things, and finite spirits, 
affirming their intimate relationship in a spiritual kingdom, and 
the gracious and beneficent ministry of the Spirit in things to the 
Spirit of Man. His is the Theist's faith in a spiritual universe, 



302 WORDSWORTH 

which our Poet affirms with his whole mind and heart, and with 
which his poetry of Nature throbs. 

There was one aspect of Nature which failed to receive Words- 
worth's serious attention, namely, her apparent cruelty. In the 
light of modern biological science a reflective poet of Nature can- 
not overlook the terrible struggle for existence in the animal world. 
Its trail of blood runs far back into the ages. Even a robust, opti- 
mistic faith, such as that of our Poet, would almost of necessity have 
wavered at times in contemplating this awful fact. It was this 
painful and bloody struggle, with the destruction and waste of 
living things, that at times almost overwhelmed his brother-poet, 
Tennyson. Cantos LIV, LV, and LVI of *' In Memoriam " 
reveal to us how earnestly and carefully he had considered these 
things, and their bearing on faith in the goodness and love of God. 
Looking merely at Nature, he could find no ethical solution of the 
problem of suffering. For him Nature was "red in tooth and 
claw," and ''with ravine, shriek'd against his creed" of faith in a 
God of love. He wrote to a friend, '* If we look at Nature alone, 
full of perfection and imperfection, she tells us that God is disease, 
murder and rapine." ^ If Tennyson had been compelled to abide 
by the facts which Nature alone presented, he would never have 
been able to contemplate or interpret her in the optimistic fashion 
of Wordsworth. Rather would he have regarded her as a monster 
of iniquity. But his religious consciousness came to his aid when 
he was overwhelmed by the cruelty of Nature. He stretched '' lame 
hands of faith " to what he felt was '' Lord of all." He struggled 
with these ugly facts of Nature, and escaped the melancholy con- 
clusions of the logical intellect, only by taking refuge in religious 
hope and trust. 

Now Wordsworth seems as a rule to have closed his eyes to 
these phenomena. And it is difficult to determine the reason why. 
The fact that this great problem of biological evolution did not 
engross the scientific world during the period when Wordsworth 

1 Alfred, Lord Tennyson, A Memoir, by his Son, I, 314, New York, 1897. 



SUMMARY 303 

wrote most of his poetry of Nature is hardly sufficient to ac- 
count for it. A scientific elaboration of the fact of the struggle 
for existence, and the part which it plays in the evolution of the 
fittest types, is not necessary to make a man conscious of the ter- 
rible suffering that prevails, and has prevailed, in the animal world. 
As Professor Bradley remarks : *' We need no theory to tell us 
that spiders eat flies and stoats kill rabbits, and yet Wordsworth 
almost entirely ignores such facts. A poet doubtless is at liberty 
to do so, and to confine himself to singing of the beauty and hap- 
piness of Nature. But then Wordsworth, unlike most poets, 
preached a gospel of Nature ; and, as a preacher, he was bound 
to face the phenomena that seem to throw doubt on his gospel, 
and to make us feel that after all they are consistent with it. I do 
not say that he could not have done this ; but he did not attempt 
it, and when he did not ignore the facts in question he showed an 
inclination to flinch from them.^ He was here, it seems likely, still 
somewhat under the influence of Rousseau, which elsewhere he 
had shaken off. Just as Burns, in his address * To a Field-mouse,' 

regrets that 

Man's dominion 

Has broken Nature's social union ; 
just as Cowper declares that 

God made the country, and man made the town ; 

SO Wordsworth yields here and there too much to a tendency to 
contrast the happiness, innocence, and harmony of Nature with the 
unrest, misery, and sin of man." ^ 

It is undoubtedly a fact that Wordsworth, in his attitude toward 
Nature, was primarily occupied with apprehending her as good and 
beneficent in her offices, and to a very large extent he ignored her 
cruelty, which often seemed to seriously perplex the faith of the 
spirit of Man. It may be that, in the revelations of the heart of 

^ See, for example, The Redbreast and the Butterfly. 

2 Professor Bradley, English Poetry and German Philosophy in the] Age of 
Wordsworth, 24-25, Manchester, 1909. 



304 WORDSWORTH 

Nature that came to him through his mystical intuition, she was 
apprehended as so essentially good in herself, and so essentially 
kind and ethical in her relations to Man and to the animal king- 
dom, that there was hardly room in Wordsworth's mind and heart 
for a less worthy conception. It may be, also, that, in his close 
relationship with Nature, he had gained such an insight into her 
real life that he apprehended even her warnings, penalties, and 
cruelties as beneficent ministries — as means toward worthy ends. 
Whether this be so or not, certain it is that Wordsworth's mind 
was dominated by an optimistic conception of Nature to such an 
extent that he seemed to be almost entirely oblivious of the awful 
facts that make against his faith. Such facts cannot properly be 
ignored by any one who proclaims a '' gospel of Nature." Their 
bearing on faith in this gospel ought to be duly considered. 

If we turn next to a summary of Wordsworth's views concern- 
ing Man, it will be recalled that he holds the following beliefs : 

First, that Man may be found at his best where his life is most 
simple — where the conventionalities, customs, and institutions of 
society have not rendered it artificial and complex, and where he 
pursues his vocation close to Nature's heart. That is, among rural 
folk we may find human nature in its essential, universal, elemental 
life, better than elsewhere. And when we thus read it, despite all 
of the mental, moral, and spiritual infirmity disclosed, we find that 
fundamentally our humanity has worth. The inner nature is good ; 
and Man's potentialities are such that, under proper conditions, 
they will unfold to his credit, and he will achieve a worthy destiny 
under God. 

Secondly, men are not isolated personal units. They exist as 
members of a spiritual kingdom, all possessed of moral natures, 
and subject to the same moral law. In this lies the fundamental 
oneness of the race, and the ultimate ground of the obligations of 
Man's humanity to Man. And, since Man is a moral being, no order 
of society is permissible that treats him as a tool — a mere means 
to an end. There is a native equality belonging to him by. virtue 



SUMMARY 305 

of his essential constitution as moral, and this must be preserved 
at all hazards. Any violation of this moral obligation will not only 
entail serious consequences on the individual, but also on society 
and the nation. Again, Man as organized under government must 
rule in righteousness. Tyranny and injustice must be overthrown, 
and the essential rights of men must be zealously guarded. A 
nation's greatness does not lie in its material possessions, nor in 
its conquests, but in its moral ideals, in its righteous rule, in the 
lofty character of its statesmen, and in its moral achievements or 
progress. 

Thirdly, Wordsworth holds that life is worth living. Despite its 
manifold evils, life itself is a good. The evils themselves may 
prove stepping-stones to good. Suffering is a means to an ethical 
end. Through it virtues are developed which strengthen and adorn 
the soul. Furthermore, Man is not alone in the world, nor alone 
in his sufferings. The resources of Divine Providence are at the 
command of the human soul in every condition of human ^need. 
Faith in God, in duty, and in a glorious destiny for the worthy, 
is the key to the solution of the problem of our earthly life, with 
its varied vicissitudes, and its large portion of physical and mental" 
suffering. 

This is the creed of the Poet of Nature and Man, which an ex- 
tended study of his mental and spiritual development reveals. It 
is a creed full of lofty spiritualism, moral idealism, and sane opti- 
mism. Sometimes it is embodied in simple verse, and again, in 
noble and eloquent song — all of which breathes a pure spirit, and 
is colored by fervent sympathy and love. 

Were we tracing the evolution of Wordsworth as a literary artist, 
we should, of course, find that he was under obligations to his 
English predecessors. He was undoubtedly indebted to Chaucer, 
Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, and Burns. His obligations extend 
even beyond the boundaries of English poetry, for he owed a 
literary debt to ancient classical authors, especially to Vergil and 
Theocritus. But so far as his mental and spiritual attitude toward 



3o6 WORDSWORTH 

Nature was concerned, his indebtedness to his predecessors was 
really not very large. He was probably influenced in this respect" 
by Vergil among the ancients, and by Bums, Wither, and Lady 
Winchelsea among English poets. He was also influenced by Rous- 
seau and the Zeit-Geist. The age was one in which the desirability 
of a return to Nature was proclaimed as a gospel. The atmosphere 
was more or less charged with it, and Wordsworth was undoubtedly 
affected by it — all the more because it was in harmony with his 
own predispositions and likings. But, after all, Wordsworth's pro- 
found interest in Nature, and his fundamental faiths concerning 
her, were largely due to his own mystical endowment, and to his 
personal relations with her during many years in a physical environ- 
ment remarkable for its beauty and grandeur. He spoke out of 
his own rich experience. His poetry embodies convictions born of 
this unique experience, which, down to 1813, had covered half a 
lifetime and more. How far it differs from that of his predecessors 
in English Nature-poetry will be evident by a brief glance at their 
contributions. Much of Wordsworth's verse represents a reaction 
against the artificiality of preceding English poetry relating to 
Nature. Wordsworth affirms that from Milton to Thomson no 
new contributions had been made to nature-images. The same 
stereotyped pictures, and their verbal symbols, were used by suc- 
cessive poets. Such poetry indicates really no direct contact with, 
or love of. Nature. Its knowledge is not first-hand, and its emotion 
is really an affectation. According to Wordsworth, conventional- 
ism, or artificiality, characterizes the poetic treatment of Nature 
during this period. 

However, throughout the eighteenth century there was a strong 
feeling for Nature, and a careful study of the poets of this period 
reveals a foreshadowing of all the Wordsworthian conceptions con- 
cerning her. Not only was his idea of Nature as pervaded by a 
universal Spirit anticipated, but nearly all his views of the various 
relations which she sustains to Man were pointed out by more or 
less obscure poets. Concerning the presence of a Spirit in things, 



WORDSWORTH'S CONTRIBUTION TO POETRY 307 

it is true that the dominant conception of God's relation to Nature 
prevailing at this time was of His transcendence rather than of 
His immanence. He is the creator, fashioner, and governor of the 
world. Still, we have God's immanence taught also. It may be 
found in minor poets, like Hamilton, Parnell, Mallet, Akenside, 
Beattie, and Lady Winchelsea (to whom Wordsworth was more or 
less indebted), although it does not appear as a powerful inspiring 
vision and faith dominating the art and life of the poet, as in the 
case of Wordsworth. We find the same teaching in Thomson's 
elaborate poem ''The Seasons," and in Cowper's poem entitled 
'* The Task." In Thomson's poem the heavens and the earth are 
filled with the Divine Presence. Even the seasons are manifes- 
tations of Him. But this does not represent Thomson's ruling 
conception. It is not for him a fervent, inspiring faith, a rich 
communion supporting the spirit, and controlling the conduct of 
the poet, as it is with Wordsworth. 
Cowper, too, affirms : 

The Lord of all, himself through all diffused, 
Sustains and is the life of all that lives.^ 

But, although Cowper had a real love and passion for natural objects, 
as Wordsworth himself observes, what he says of a soul that lives 
and works in all things seems more like religious conviction than 
mystical intuition. It seems like a poetic expression of religious 
faith. It was different with Wordsworth. With him it was an 
overpowering spiritual vision which seemed to develop almost into 
a religion. He did not apprehend this spiritual Presence in Nature 
from the standpoint of a previously formed Theistic faith, but his 
Theistic faith, so far as it relates to Nature, seemed to be the 
natural result of his intuition. 

Again, in Young's ''Night Thoughts" we read : 

All-knowing ! — all unknown ! — and yet well-known ! 
Near, though remote ! and, though unfathom'd, felt ! 
And, though invisible, forever seen ! 

1 Cowper, The Task, VI, 221-222. 



3o8 WORDSWORTH 

And seen in all ! the great and the minute : 

Each globe above, with its gigantic race, 

Each flower, each leaf, with its small people swarm'd, 

(Those puny vouchers of Omnipotence !) 

To the first thought, that asks, " From whence? " declare 

Their common source. Thou Fountain, running o'er 

In rivers of communicated joy ! 

Who gavest us speech for far, far humbler themes ! 

Say, by what name shall I presume to call 

Him I see burning in these countless suns, 

As Moses, in the bush ? ^ 

But here, too, we have not a sublime spiritual intuition. Virtually 
throughout his elaborate poem Young is merely using poetry as a 
means to overthrow infidelity, and to give expression to a defense of 
his Theistic and Christian faith. It is a case of Apologetics in 
poetry. With Young, God in all things is not a mystical intuition, 
but rather a philosophical or theological conception expressed in 
verse. 

Even Pope, writing prior to Cowper and Young, despite the 
Deistic influence to which he was subject in his relations to 
Bolingbroke, gives a richer conception of God's presence in 
Nature than they — one, also, that approaches more nearly to 
Wordsworth's. In his '' Essay on Man " he says : 

All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
Whose body nature is, and God the soul ; 
That, changed through all, and yet in all the same, 
Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame, 
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees, 
Lives thro' all life, extends through all extent, 
Spreads undivided, operates unspent.^ 

Fine as this undoubtedly is, yet how devoid of richness, color, and 
subjectivity it seems compared with Wordsworth's conception and 
belief as found in *' Lines written in Early Spring," ''To my 
Sister," '' Expostulation and Reply," *' The Tables Turned," *' Lines 

1 Young, Night Thoughts, Night Ninth, 2 199-22 12. 

2 Pope, Essay on Man, Epistle I, 267-274. 



WORDSWORTH'S CONTRIBUTION TO POETRY 309 

composed a few miles above Tintem Abbey," and portions of 
** The Prelude " and *' The Excursion." How objective and im- 
perso7tal it seems ! With the exception of a few lines, how like a 
philosophical or theological proposition, either inherited or ration- 
ally inferred, and embodied in verse ! It does not bear the marks 
of real poetic inspiration and mystical insight. It does not seem to 
be a real birth of spiritual imagination, nor does it throb with the 
intense personal life of the author, as do the poems of the Grasmere 
poet. 

Wordsworth was, indeed, anticipated or foreshadowed by eight- 
eenth century poets, so far as a feeling for Nature is concerned, 
and also in his conceptions of the Spirit of Nature, and of her 
relations to Man. But there is a marked difference in the attitude 
of these poets and that of Wordsworth. With none of them was .\^- 
Nature, as pervaded by a Spirit-life, such a profound experience 
as she was with Wordsworth. From childhood he had felt her pres- 
ence warning him, leading him, fashioning him, calling him to be 
her high priest, counseling him, consoling him, refreshing him, 
instructing him, vouchsafing visions to him, and acquainting him 
with her inner life. He communed with her, reverenced her, 
loved her. She was for many years an intense passion with him. 
He was so charmed by, and engrossed with, her that he became 
a reverent and affectionate worshiper at her shrine. Through his 
mystical nature he gained an insight into the very Soul of things. 
He saw^ and then believed, and what he saw became a living 
power in his life both as a poet and as a man. Much of his poetry 
is the outgrowth of his vision and its attendant belief. What he saw 
— with its meaning for Man — was for him a tremendous reality, 
and he felt morally commissioned to speak the vision through his 
art. It is in this sense that we must understand Wordsworth's appre- 
hension of Nature as possessed of Spirit. It was not a mere series 
of hints, suggestions, illuminating gleams, mild feelings, and pen- 
sive and more or less penetrating imaginations, as seems to be the 
case with the minor poets referred to. With Wordsworth it was 



3IO WORDSWORTH 

rapturous vision, profound intuition, intense and sublime passion, 
deep ethical conviction, reverent and affectionate communion, 
heavenly illumination, and " woe is me if I preach not the mes- 
sage." It was not merely an intellectual proposition to be subscribed 
to, nor a conviction born of logical processes in reflecting upon 
Nature, nor even a religious conviction as such, but it was a 
powerful experience, the chief elements of which were vision, 
intuition, belief, communion, inspiration, love, and moral resolve. 
His poetry pulsates with this unusual sense of nearness to the 
life of Nature. He feels himself called of the Spirit, dedicated 
and commissioned by the Spirit, to speak no dream, but things 
oracular. And it is thus he speaks. His genius is aglow with the 
living warmth and radiance of the visions and illuminations vouch- 
safed, and is burdened with their vital ethical import for Man. 
And his metrical language is not merely a vehicle for the commu- 
nication of the vision and inspiration, but it, too, constitutes, in a 
measure, the gift of the Spirit of Nature ; so that, in the richness 
and variety of their experience, in the penetration and profundity 
of their insight, in the quality and suggestiveness of their inspira- 
tions, in the sublimity of their apprehension of the moral import 
of Nature's relation to Man, the humbler poets, who foreshadowed 
Wordsworth, are far removed from him. He is immeasurably their 
superior. ) As a Nature-poet he is in a class by himself among Eng- 
lish bards. His song is unmatched, voicing, in an almost incompar- 
able manner, the exquisite melody of Nature's external life, and the 
beautiful, profound, and mystical harmony of her inner Spirit. 
/As a poet of Man, also, he was in a measure unique. There 
is something individual in the way in which he was led through 
love of Nature to love of Man — in the gradual subordination of 
the former, and in the exaltation of the latter, which, as we have 
seen, had a far-reaching influence on his art. There was some- 
thing unique, also, in his method of approach to the observation 
and contemplation of Man, and in the results thereof. On the 
part of his critics this constituted a ground of objection to him 



WORDSWORTH'S CONTRIBUTION TO POETRY 311 

as a poet. They accused him of degrading his art in the selec- 
tion of his subjects. They also accused him of seeing far more in 
human nature as manifest in peasants, vagrants, and humble folk 
generally than may actually be found there. But we have seen 
that Wordsworth was a realist in this respect, firmly determined 
to find out what essential human nature is. He was a keen psy- 
chologist, endeavoring to discover what Man is when stripped of 
the artificiality due to the conventions and institutions of society 
— what the ''feelings and passions" are which constitute his 
fundamental life. And it was among these simple folk that he 
believed the essentials of our common nature are to be found ; 
therefore he trained his powers of observation and insight on such 
as these. '' The lonely roads were open schools " in which he daily 

read 

With most delight the passions of mankind, 

Whether by words, looks, sighs, or tears, revealed ; 

There saw into the depths of human souls. 

Souls that appear to have no depth at all 

To careless eyes.^ 

Here he heard 

From mouths of men obscure and lowly, truths 
Replete with honour ; sounds in unison 
With loftiest promises of good and fair.^ 

This method of approach to the study of Man is refreshing and, 
in some respects, original. It lies at the basis of much of his 
optimism, for by its use he soon discovered that our " inner frame " 
is good. It was the '' important lessons of mankind," learned in 
this way, that he embodied in verse, singing a lofty song in honor 
of essential human nature thus revealed, and as manifest in the 
fundamental relations which Man sustains. 

There was something wholesome and refreshing, also, and in 
some respects unusual, in the genuine sympathy and love for Man 
which inspired much of his poetry, as well as in the democracy 

1 The Prelude, XIII, 163-168. * Ibid, 183-185. 



312 WORDSWORTH 

which lies at the foundation of it. He was a lover of the poor and 
lowly, and a champion of their rights and interests. He sympathized 
with them in their suffering, and did honor to their fidelity and 
spirit of endurance, their patience and resignation, under it. And 
the poems which are the outcome of this love are a genuine con- 
tribution to English verse. For tenderness and pathos, for sym- 
pathy and genuine passion, they are unsurpassed in the history of 
English poetry. Their author has sounded the depths of the human 
heart, and seems to appreciate and understand nearly every phase 
of human woe. He discerns the virtues it calls forth, and the mean- 
ing of suffering in the Divine economy. 

Furthermore, he guards the moral claims of these lowly folk 
against the evils of the social order. He makes an earnest protest 
against an industrial system that destroys the moral equality of 
men. Nature has established this equality, and no order of Man 
ought to interfere with it. Men cannot be regarded as tools or 
instruments — as means to ends. They must be treated as ends 
in themselves. And Wordsworth, in his poetry, makes not only an 
earnest protest against interference with this moral equality, but 
an eloquent appeal for its preservation by statute. This, of course, 
is not a new doctrine, but it was so earnestly felt by the Poet that 
it would be difficult to find verse throbbing with a more ardent plea 
for recognition of this truth, and for action in accordance with it. 

Again, originality is manifest in his apprehension of Man in 
the city. His was a unique method of forming an ideal in boyhood, 
based on the heroic figure and mien of the shepherd of his native 
hills. It was unique, also, to look at Man from the standpoint of 
this ideal when he beheld his physical and moral degradation in 
the great city by the Thames, and have his faith in human nature 
not only confirmed but strengthened thereby. There is poetic 
originality, too, in his mystical apprehension of the unity of the 
race under moral law, despite the diversity of human nature pre- 
sented here ; and also in his poetic intuition of Man's glorious 
destiny under God. It reveals the character of the optimism which 



WORDSWORTH'S CONTRIBUTION TO POETRY 313 

underlies so much of his poetry, and also how his genius was pre- 
eminently genius of insight. It was genius that saw rather than 
inferred, believing only on the basis of inference. And this peculiar 
mark of his poetic power is stamped on his art. 

Again, within the sphere of politics, he exhibits unusual quali- 
ties as a poet of Man. His patriotic poems — especially the politi- 
cal sonnets — reveal this. He is comparatively free from blind 
partisanship, and a purely emotional patriotism. There is sanity in 
his political fervor. A rich ethical vein runs through this part of 
his nature, and it manifests itself in his verse. Moral ideals domi- 
nate his views and feeling. A profound love of country is tempered 
by a sublime sense of duty, which makes him bold to rebuke his 
own Nation for shortcomings and failures. A government's power 
does not lie in might, but in right. Like the prophets of old he 
lifts up his voice against wickedness in high places. Neither is 
his patriotism provincial. In this respect he is a citizen of the 
world. All men are loved as brothers. National limits do not con- 
stitute limits to his love. Early he became *' a patriot of the world," 
and remained such. Despising injustice and tyranny wherever 
found, he was champion and defender of the rights of men regard- 
less of nationality. The *' Poems dedicated to National Independ- 
ence and Liberty " are a genuine contribution to English verse. 
They will bear comparison with the noblest productions of a liter- 
ature rich in political poetry and prose. Mr. Myers truly says that 
they " are worthy of comparison with the noblest passages of patri- 
otic verse or prose which all our history has inspired — the passages 
where Shakespeare brings his rays to focus on *this earth, this 
realm, this England ' — or where the dread of national dishonour 
has kindled Chatham to an iron glow — or where Milton rises from 
the polemic into the prophet, and Burke from the partisan into 
the philosopher. The armoury of Wordsworth, indeed, was not 
forged with the same fire as that of these * invincible knights of 
old.' He had not swayed senates, nor directed policies, nor gath- 
ered into one ardent bosom all the spirit of a heroic age. But he 



314 WORDSWORTH 

had deeply felt what it is that makes the greatness of nations ; 
in that extremity no man was more staunch than he; no man 
more unwaveringly disdained unrighteous empire, or kept the 
might of moral forces more steadfastly in view. Not Stein could 
place a manlier reliance on 'a few strong instincts and a few plain 
rules ' ; not Fichte could invoke more convincingly the * great 
allies ' which work with * Man's unconquerable mind/ " ^ 

Finally, if, as a poet of Man, in dealing with the subject of 
Human Life, especially in '' The Excursion," Wordsworth did not 
produce a carefully reasoned system, or a real philosophy of life, nor 
present anything especially new or striking in his musing on the 
profound problems which such a subject involves, he at least thinks 
for himself ; his conclusions, involving a recognition of the Chris- 
tian solution of these problems, are independently reached. His 
conviction that the "one adequate support for the calamities of 
mortal life " is belief in a beneficent God, who overrules all things 
for good, in the reality of virtue, and in the soul's imperishable 
worth, was not a blind adoption of traditional or genemlly accepted 
views, but a conviction bom of serious meditation on the more 
mysterious aspects of human life. And in his meditations there 
is a rare frankness in his concessions to Pessimism. He freely 
grants all that can be truthfully said concerning the dark side of 
human experience. There is no flinching here. He recognizes the 
facts of pain and misery — of physical pain, and of mental and 
moral misery. In his poetry of Man the tragedy of life is most 
pathetically dwelt upon — to such an extent, indeed, and in such a 
manner that it would be difficult to find, in all poetical literature, 
Wordsworth's equal as a poet of pathos. He sounded the pro- 
found depths of human suffering. He was acquainted with many 
of its forms. He brooded over its mystery, and there is something 
unusual and inspiring in his unconquerable will to see light in 
darkness, and good in the midst of physical, mental, and moral 
evil. He anticipates Browning in this respect. He recognizes that 

1 Myers, Wordsworth, 78. 



WORDSWORTH'S CONTRIBUTION TO POETRY 315 

life has resources sufficient for life, and that these may be found 
in Nature and in Man himself, in faith in Divine Providence, in 
belief in duty, and conformity to it, and in the soul's firm conviction 
of her immortal destiny. 

Such were the faiths and convictions which Wordsworth embodied 
in his poetry of Nature and of Man. After freely conceding all lim- 
itations and defects which a just criticism finds in this portion of 
his work, it would seem, in the light of our study, that we must 
see him as Coleridge saw him, when listening to '' The Prelude," 
'*ere yet the last strain dying awed the air," as ''a great Bard," 
and " in the choir of ever-enduring men." By virtue of the rare 
quality of his genius, by the intrinsic worth of its creations, and by 
its illuminating and inspiring visions, intuitions, and meditations, 
with their profound significance for human life, Wordsworth has 
won for himself an exalted place among the Immortals. 



INDEX 



Admonition, 175 

Advance — come forth from thy Tyro- 
lean ground, 246 

Affliction of Margaret , The, 71, 

loi, 177, 187-189, 239 

Akenside, 307 

Alas ! what boots the long laborious 
quest, 246 

Alice Fell ; or, Poverty, 184 

Ancient Mariner, The, 90 

Anticipation (October, 1803), 192 

Arnold, Matthew, 295 

At the Grave of Burns, 167 

Autobiographical Memoranda, 2 

Bacon, 241 

Beattie, 42, 307 

Beaumont, 171, 172, 231, 232 

Beaumont, Lady, 173, 190, 231, 232, 

235 
Beaupuy, 77 
Beloved Vale ! I said, when I shall con, 

175 
Birkett, Mrs. Anne, 10 

Bohme, Jakob, 90 

Bolingbroke, 308 

Borderers, The, 80, 88, 242 

Bradley, 303 

Brook ! whose society the Poet seeks, 

175 
Brothers, The, 71, 93, 96, loi, 177, 178, 

179, 181, 183, 189 
Browning, 163, 314 
Burke, 244, 313 
Bums, 161, 163, 168, 235, 286, 303, 305, 

306 
Byron, 70, 100, 285 

Caird, Edward, 137 

Canning, 244 

Carlyle, 132 

Character of the Happy Warrior, 194, 

201-203 
Chatham, 313 
Chaucer, 35, 235, 286, 305 
Childless Father, The, 177 



Clarkson, 184 

Clifford, Lord, 232 

Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 31, 37, 54, 
66, 73» 77. 86-91, 96, 104, 122, 123, 
124, 135 n., 136, 145, 147, 148, 15s, 
164, 167, 168, 183, 195, 197, 219, 228, 
235, 236, 242, 244, 315 

Coleridge, Sarah, 234 

Collins, 42 

Complaint of a Forsaken Indian 
Woman, The, 93, 96, loi, 122 

Composed at the same Time and on 
the same Occasion, 245 

Composed upon an Evening of extra- 
ordinary Splendour and Beauty, 297 

Convention of Cintra, The (Essay on), 
243, 244 

Convention of Cintra, The (Sonnet on), 

245 
Cottle, 73, 88, 124, 125 
Courthope, 98 n. 
Cowper, 51, 303, 307, 308 
Crackanthorpe, Richard, 2 

Dante, 70 

Davy, 229 

De Quincey, 74, 77, 78 n. 

Descriptive Sketches, 43, 44, 46, 88 

De Vere, 98 

Dion, 296 

Dobell, 221 n. 

Dowden, 295, 296 n., 298 

Duddon Sonnets, 296 

Earl of Lonsdale, 227 

Ecclesiastical Sonnets, 277, 278, 296, 

297 
Eillbanks, 10 

Elector of Saxony, The, 203, 235 
Elegiac Stanzas, 170 
Elegiac Verses, 169, 170, 228 
Ellen Irwin, or, the Braes of Kirtle, 

228 
Emerson, 226 
England I the time is come when thou 

shouldst wean, 192 



317 



3i8 



WORDSWORTH 



Evening Voluntaries, 130 

Evening Walk, An, 42 

Excursion, The, 11, 70, 71, 88, 147, 149, 
189, 195, 196, 197, "207, 222, 240, 241, 
242, 247, 249-294, 296, 298, 309, 314 

Expostulation and Reply, 107, 108, 308 

Feelings of the Tyrolese, 246 
Fenwick, Miss, 205, 243 
Fichte, 201, 314 
Fielding, 30 

Fountain, The, 93, 96, loi, 144, 189 
Fox, Charles James, 90, 179, 180, 183, 
192, 203 

Gay, 50 

Godwin, William, 66, 67, 68, 77, 80, 81, 

84, 183, 266 
Goethe, 70 
Graham, 184 
Grahame, 235 
Graves, 211, 214, 215 
Gray, 42 

Green Linnet, The, 167 
Guide to the Lakes, 151 
Gustavus IV, 247 

Hamilton, 307 

Hart-leap Well, 156, 157, 184 
Hazlitt, 100, 122, 123, 253, 254, 285 
Her Eyes are Wild, loi 
Hofer, 246 

Home at Grasmere, 151 n. 
Hudson, 190 n. 

Hutchinson, Mary, 41, 160, 227 
Hutchinson, Thomas, 196 n., 197 n., 
249 n., 251 n. 

I wandered lonely as a cloud, 115, 167, 

169 
Idiot Boy, The, 93, 96, loi 
In the Pass of Killicranky (1803), 192 
Influence of Natural Objects, etc., 137 
It is a beauteous Evening, calm and 

free, 167 
It is not to be thought of that the Flood, 

191 
It was an April morning: fresh and 

clear, 158, 159 

Jeffrey, 135 n., 285 
Johnson, 50 
Jones, 42, 125, 138 
Jowett, 216 n. 
Juvenal, 50, 80 



Kant, 284 

Keats, 286, 287 

Kitten and Falling Leaves, The, 167, 
171 

Knight, 4 n., 41 n., 74 n., 78 n., 79 n., 
91 n., 104 n., ii6n., 117 n., 124 n., 
125 n., 136 n., 137 n., 139 n., 147, 
iS2n., i53n., iS4n., 155 n., i58n., 
163, 164 n., 182 n., 183 n., 184 n., 
188 n., 192, 195 n., 197 n., 202 n., 
2o6n., 211 n., 2i2n., 2i4n., 2i5n., 
232 n., 234 n., 235 n., 239 n., 241 n., 
243, 244 n., 250, 292 n. 

Lamb> Charles, 66, 1 56, 160, 184, 244, 285 

Laodamia, 296 

Last of the Flock, The, 96, loi 

Legouis, 2, 7, 42, 46, 50, 51, 52, 81 

Lines (September, 1806), 192 

Lines composed a few miles above 

Tintern Abbey, 124-135, 184, 200, 

201, 223, 226, 274, 275, 308 
Lines on the Expected Invasion (1803), 

192 
Lines written in Early Spring, 103, 104, 

105, 308 
Look now on that Adventurer who hath 

paid, 247 
Losh, James, 194 
Lyrical Ballads, 70, 86-135, 180, 183, 

227, 259, 278, 286, 291, 292, 293, 

298 

Mad Mother, The, 93, 96, 122 

Mallet, 307 

Marshall, Mrs., 79 

Martial courage of a day is vain, The, 

246 
Masson, 70, 71, 286, 287 n. 
Matthews, 3 
Michael, 71, loi, 177, 178, 179, 181, 

183, 189 
Milton, 10, 35, 51, 182, 191, 244, 245, 

257. 285, 305, 306, 313 
Milton I thou shouldst be living at this 

hour, 191 
Morley, no, 115, 165, 239 
Musings near Aquapendente, 229 
My heart leaps up when I behold, 167 
Myers, 125, 170, 202, 228, 313, 314 

Napoleon, 191, 192, 203, 235, 236, 245, 

246, 247 
Narrow Girdle of rough stones and 

crags, A, 158, 160 



INDEX 



319 



Nature, Man, and Society, 194 
Nelson, 201, 202, 203 
Newton, 35 
November (1806), 193 
Nutting, 139, 140, 141 

O Friend! I know not which way I 

must look, 191 
October (1803), 192, 203 
Ode. Intimations of Immortality, 6, 

137, 163, 184, 194, 204-229 
Ode to Duty, 184, 194, 199, 200 
Old Cumberland Beggar, The, loi, 116, 

117 ^ 
Old Man Travelling, The, 93 
Oldham, 50 
On the Final Submission of the Tyro- 

lese, 246 

Palafox, 246 

Pamell, 307 

Pasley, 243 

Paul, 183 n. 

Peter Bell, 117, 118-121, 145 

Plato, 90, 216, 217 

Plotinus, 90 

Poems dedicated to National Independ- 
ence and Liberty, 70, 192, 193, 203, 
228, 236, 243, 245, 247, 313 

Poems on the Naming of Places, 1 58 

Poet's Epitaph, A, 109, 141, 142, 290 

Poole, 124 

Poole, Mrs., 147 

Pope, 308 

Prelude, The, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 16, 
17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 27, 
28, 29, 30, 32, 33, 35, 36, 38, 43, 44, 
45, 46, 47, 49,* 50, 52, 53, 54, 55, 57, 
59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 68, 72, 75, 
76, 82, 83, 84, 85, 89, 91, 94, 95, 102, 
no, III, 112, 113, 114, 116, 120, 121, 
136, 138, 139, 140, 141, 147, 149, 167, 
171, 183, 186, 187, 194-199, 206,227, 
236, 249, 256, 257, 258, 259, 264, 293, 
298, 299, 309, 311, 315 

Price, 211, 215 

Primrose of the Rock, The, 297 

Prophecy, A, 235 

Quillinan, Edward, 184 

Raleigh, 71, 96, 167, 187, 189 
Raymond, 43 

Recluse, The, 88, 147, 148, 149, 151- 
156) i77> I9S» 196, 249, 250, 251 



Redbreast chasing the Butterfly, The, 

167, 303 n. 
Reed, 2n., ion., 232 
Resolution and Independence, 177, 184, 

185 
River Duddon, The, 297 
Rob Roy's Grave, 228 
Robinson, 171, 236, 285 
Rose, Rev. Hugh James, 10 
Rousseau, 10, 43, 56, 66, 303, 306 
Ruined Cottage, The, 88, 239, 262 
Ruth, 71, loi, 119, 144, 145, 146, 183, 

189, 239 

Saintsbury, 226 

Schelling, 90 

Schill, 246 

Scott, 228, 229, 237, 238 

Shairp, 295 

Shakespeare, 10, 28, 70, 305, 313 

She was a Phantom of delight, 227 

Shelley, 66 

Simon Lee, 96, loi 

Simplon Pass, The, 138, 139 

Small Celandine, The, 167 

Socrates, 216 

Solitary Reaper, The, 167, 168, 228 

Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle, 

232, 233, 234 
Southey, 285 

Sparrow's Nest, The, 4, 75, 167 
Spenser, 10, 28, 35, 182, 305 
Stanzas suggested in a Steamboat off 

St. Bees' Heads, 290 
Stein, 314 

Stepping Westward, 228 
Sun has long been set. The, 167 
Swift, 30, 50 
Synesius, 90 

Tables Turned, The, 108, 109, 290, 

308 
Talleyrand, 192 
Taylor, 90 
Tennyson, 26, 163, 182, 204, 217, 222, 

286, 295, 302 
Theocritus, 305 
There is a bondage worse, far worse, 

to bear, 192 
There is an Eminence, — of these our 

hills, 158, 160 
There is a little unpretending Rill, 

175 
There was a Boy, 136, 137, 164 
Thomson, 235, 286, 306, 307 



320 



WORDSWORTH 



Thorn, The, loi, 122 

Thought of a Briton on the Subjugation 

of Switzerland, 236 
Thoughts suggested the Day follow- 
ing, on the Banks of Nith, etc., 167, 

i^ 
Three years she grew in sun and 

shower, 115, 142, 143, 184 
'T is said, that some have died for love, 

161, 162 
To a Butterfly, 167 
To the Cuckoo, 164 
To the Daisy, 115, 165, 166 
To a Highland Girl, 167, 228 
To Joanna, 158, 160, 224 
To M. H., 158, 160, 161 
To the Men of Kent (October 1803), 

192 
To my Sister, 105, 106, 308 
To a Painter, 227 
To the Same Flower, 167 
To a Sky-Lark, 167 
To the Small Celandine, 167 
Traheme, 219, 220, 221 
Turner, 211 
Two April Mornings, The, 93, 96, loi, 

144, 162, 189 
Two Thieves, The, 93 
Tylor, 18 n. 

Vaughan, 217, 218, 219 
Veitch, 4 
Vergil, 305, 306 



We are Seven, 90, 93, 96 

Wellesley, Sir Arthur, 243 

When I have borne in memory what 

has tamed, 191 
White Doe of Rylstone, The, 71, 227, 

237-242 
Winchelsea, Lady, 306, 307 
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou 

climb'st the sky, 175 
Wither, 306 
Wordsworth, Captain John, 4, 147, 148, 

155, 169, 202, 228 
Wordsworth, Catherine, 228 
Wordsworth, Christopher, 2, 195 
Wordsworth, Dora, 171, 228 
Wordsworth, Dorothy, 4, 41, 43, 69, 

73-79' 86, 87, 90, 136, 147, 148, 151, 

152, 153, 156, 168, 195, 228, 232, 259 
Wordsworth, John, 228 
Wordsworth, Mrs., 41, 169, 188, 227 
Wordsworth, Richard, 15 
Wordsworth, Thomas, 228 
Wordsworth, William, 228 
World is too much with us; late and 

soon, The, 175 
Wrangham, 80 

Yarrow Revisited, 296, 297 

Yarrow Unvisited, 167 

Yarrow Visited, 297 

Yes, it was the mountain Echo, 174 

Yew-Trees, 167 

Young, 307, 308 



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